


The Book of John

by Kat123



Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Best Friends, Canon-Typical Violence, Childhood Trauma, F/M, Friendship, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Violence, Religious Content, Religious Discussion, Religious Fanaticism, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Slow Burn, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-07-02 05:10:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15789609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat123/pseuds/Kat123
Summary: Deputy Sarah Rook is marked by John Seed and his men while she aids the Resistance in Holland Valley. When she gets captured by them a second time and is forced into one of John's famous 'confessions', he may find that there's a lot more to the 'sinful Deputy' than he initially thought... and she may surprisingly find out the very same about him...





	1. Chapter 1

_“Capture, not kill! Hit ‘em with the Bliss bullets!”_ _  
_ _“Knock ‘em out!”_

Deputy Sarah Rook groaned, her body feeling weighted down to the ground. She could hear voices talking... but they sounded distant, faint, their words echoing in her head. She tried to shift her weight but the rough gravel of the road dug into her back, causing her to grit her teeth. With much effort, she cracked one eye open. It was still evening, and with blurred eyesight she observed a Peggie leaning over a body lying supine nearby.

“This one?”  
“No. _This_ one.”

She turned her head slightly to see another cultist with a long coat approaching, pointing down at her. She slowly opened her other eye, squinting through the little particles of light that swam throughout her vision.

_‘Bliss...’_ she remembered, fighting to stay conscious. Everything came back to her in segments: she’d been on her way to Fall’s End with Boomer. She was radioed to help free another civilian at a gas station from John Seed’s followers. She and Boomer had taken the Peggies down one by one, freed the hostage. More Peggies appeared on the horizon in one of their trucks, gunning for the three of them. She and the hostage had ran, gotten hit with Bliss bullets. The last thing she’d done before blacking out was commanding Boomer to race to Fall’s End, to find other members of the Resistance and get help.

“Don’t seem very worthy,” the first Peggie remarked with a tilt of his head, as if that would give him the explanation he was seeking.

_‘I’ll show_ _you_ _who’s worthy,’_ she wanted to snarl at him, but her voice died in her throat and all she could manage was a feeble croak.

“It is not for us to judge,” the second one responded gravely. “Deliver them unto the waters. The Cleansing begins tonight.” 

A third cultist grabbed her by the arm and tried to pull her to her feet, but her legs turned to jelly and darkness overcame her once more.

* * *

A distorted, far-off voice - different than the ones before, but still somehow vaguely familiar - was preaching, rousing her cognizance.

_“We must wash away our past. We must expose our sins...”_

She attempted to take a breath and was startled to find herself surrounded by water, rough hands holding her down firmly underneath the surface. She flailed about to no avail, her body weakened and still suffering from the effects of the Bliss.

_“We must... atone!”_

At these words, the grasp keeping her submerged simultaneously released its pressure and pulled her body up out of the water. Coughing and gasping desperately, she struggled against the hands holding her. The night air immediately chilled her wet skin, made worse by her soaked clothes weighing her down some. She blinked her eyes, trying to clear her vision, and glanced at the person holding her up - another Peggie. She might have scowled at him, had her mind been more lucid. Unfortunately, everything within her eyesight seemed to shift and swirl around the edges.

“For only _then_ may we stand in the light of God-”

She turned her head towards the voice she’d heard before - sounding sharper now that her ears were no longer underwater. She blinked a few more times, trying to make sure the scene in front of her wasn’t some sort of Bliss-induced hallucination.

There, standing in the water near the shore, was John Seed. John-freakin’-Seed himself, in the flesh, holding a book in front of him. Two other poor victims - a man and a woman - stood in the water before him, their weight being supported by Peggies also. Their captors began dragging them towards John, the man next to Sarah following suit. As they each reached his side, he touched his hand to the book - the Book of Joseph, she supposed - and grazed his fingertips upon the victims’ foreheads, giving them some sort of blessing.

“-and walk through his Gate unto Eden.”

The other victims were guided back towards the van parked on shore behind John. When Sarah and her captor approached him, he closed the book and held a hand up to the Peggie.

“Not _this_ one,” he ordered. His blue eyes drilled into hers, his gaze like steel. He handed his book to the man beside her, who released his hold on her arm to take it.

Her throat began to tighten under John’s scrutiny. It was almost as if he was penetrating her defenses, looking for even the _slightest_ sign of weakness. She found herself unable to break eye contact. Without warning his expression hardened, jaw abruptly clenching. Her muscles stiffened in alarm.

“This one’s not clean,” he accused.

Before she could react, he pounced - hands grabbing her shoulders in a vice-like grip and shoving her back under the water all over again. She struggled feebly against his grasp, but he was far too strong for her to resist. He held her below the surface even longer than the Peggie had moments ago. Just when her lungs started to burn from their lack of oxygen and she thought she might pass out, he pulled her back up again.

“Ahhh!” he breathed, looking almost... _pleased_ with himself as she took ragged breaths, wheezing and gulping as much air as she could fill her lungs with, her chest uncomfortable with the effort.

_‘You sick bastard,’_ she seethed, fury searing through her veins.

He ‘ _tsk_ ’ed at her fumblings and shook his head. “Shhh-” he hissed, and made to thrust her down beneath the surface once more when another familiar voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

“Do you mock the cleansing, John?"

John’s demeanor changed so quickly it startled her. He paused, and to her surprise another emotion manifested in his features: _fear_. He stepped back several paces from her and turned halfway round without looking at the speaker, swallowing hard.

Behind him, Sarah saw a fully-clothed Joseph Seed standing on the shore (complete with his yellow sunglasses, too - who wore sunglasses at _night??_ ), staring at John with an eerie composure. A chill ran down her spine. Ever since their first meeting she was already intimidated enough by the man, but anyone that could make _John Seed_ afraid was certainly not a person to be trifled with.

"No, Joseph-" John started to reply.

"Shh!” Joseph interrupted quickly, cutting him off. He slowly waded into the water, stopping when he reached John’s side. “You have to _love_ them, John. Do not let your sin prevent that.” He gently placed a hand upon John’s shoulder. “Remember what is said: ‘If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels - but do not have love - I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains - but do not have love - I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast - but do not have love - I gain nothing.’ ”

Sarah straightened up a little, recognizing his words. It was a bible passage - one of the ones she’d used to comfort herself during lonely nights growing up (and unfortunately... _most_ of the nights had been lonely). She closed her eyes without realizing it, the next lines of the passage drifting forth around her smoothly like the river she was standing in.

_“_ _Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.”_

She took a deep breath, trying to let the words bring her some semblance, _some_ fragment or morsel of comfort and tranquility.

...After a few moments, it dawned on her that her surroundings had gone _completely silent_.

Opening her eyes again, her breath died in her throat when she saw that Joseph, John, _and_ the Peggie beside her all had their eyes riveted on _her_ . The Peggie was peering at her in something akin to awe, John was looking at her as if she had suddenly sprouted a second head, and Joseph - well... while his expression _appeared_ solemn, his gaze had grown... _intense_. It reminded her of the way his eyes had penetrated hers back in the crashed helicopter, cryptically informing her that no one was coming to rescue her and the other deputies.

At first, she couldn’t comprehend what she’d done to merit such attention. She’d only been standing there, dripping wet from her near-drowning, right? After another moment or two, her lips parted, shock and embarrassment hitting her like a ton of bricks as the truth of the situation finally registered: she’d recited the rest of the bible passage _out loud_ , not simply in her head like she’d previously believed.

_‘Shit... goddamn Bliss!’_ she thought, horrified. Leave it to her drug-addled brain to mislead her and loosen her tongue.

After another uncomfortable pause that seemed to last an _eternity_ to Sarah, Joseph gestured to the cultist beside her.

“Bring that one to me," he instructed evenly.

_‘...Oh shit,’_ she thought, her body suddenly feeling paralyzed.

The cult member grabbed her arm and drew her forward until she was standing directly in front of Joseph.

He raised his hands and slowly leaned in towards her, the blue eyes behind his yellow glasses boring holes into her sockets. He cupped her face in a gentle manner, his rough and calloused fingertips and palms contrasting with her soft, supple cheeks. She couldn’t help the tense shiver that ran through her. As brash and daunting as John could be, Joseph was intimidating on a _whole_ different level. He had a way of making her feel like he could read _everything_ about her, causing her to feel like a small child again. He stared directly into her eyes for a few seconds, as if he were trying to scrutinize her very soul.

"Despite all that you have done... you are _not_ beyond salvation,” he eventually murmured. “You’re not here by accident, or by chance. You are here by the grace of God. You’ve been given a gift. Now... it remains to be seen whether you choose to embrace it-” his eyes trailed downwards, then met hers once more. “-Or to cast it aside," he finished ominously.

He released his hold on her face, stepped back, and turned to John - who didn’t return his eye contact. John’s expression was one of utter humility. It would have amazed Sarah - if only the sadistic asshole hadn’t been threatening to _drown_ her earlier.

Joseph rested one hand on John’s shoulder again, the other pointed at Sarah. "This one shall reach the Atonement,” he instructed his younger brother softly, his voice nearly a whisper. The hand on John’s shoulder rose to cup the back of his neck, slowly pulling him forward. One brother’s forehead delicately met the other’s in a tender, intimate gesture. “...Or the Gates of Eden shall be shut to you, John," Joseph finished.

“...Yes Joseph,” John whispered, reminding Sarah of a dog with its tail between its legs. She almost - _almost_ \- felt sorry for him. It was obvious that Joseph had a lot of influence over his family, _especially_ John.

Joseph gave the back of John’s head one last gentle caress, then dropped his hand. He turned and headed back out of the water without a backwards glance at her or John.

John stared at the spot his older brother had occupied for a moment longer, seeming lost in thought. After a few seconds, he turned to face Sarah again. As soon as his eyes met hers, his expression turned to ice once more - any shred of timidity and submission now gone.

“You _will_ confess,” he warned, venom dripping from every syllable. “Every sin you’ve ever committed - no matter how petty, no matter how small... I will pull from you.” He scoffed doubtfully, a sneer pulling at the corner of his mouth. “... _Then_ we’ll see if you’re worthy of Atonement.” He stepped back and gestured to the Peggie, who tugged Sarah forward out of the water to the van.

* * *

A few white Bliss flowers and multiple shell casings lay scattered on the floor of the back of the van she was in. It seemed oddly fitting. The man and woman who’d been ‘cleansed’ before her were also inside, their hands all bound with zip ties. The man was sitting on her right, while the woman was seated across from her - along with a Peggie holding a gun in his lap.

Sarah was trying not to think of what was coming next for them: getting whisked away for a forced confession, possibly tortured, tattooed, having the tattoo sliced right off of their skin, and... God knows what else.

She felt a small tug on her arm and glanced at the man next to her, his brow knit with distress.

“If we just confess... if we confess right away we’ll be okay, right?” he asked in a hushed tone, looking from her to the woman across from them.

“No-” the other woman shook her head, not quite meeting his eyes. “You’ll make it worse.”

“Why?” he questioned. The Peggie next to the woman leaned towards the man.

“Because confession without pain _isn’t_ confession,” he replied calmly. “You’ll scream out your sin, then you’ll wear it on your flesh before John peels it off of you. It’s a _beautiful_ thing.” He spoke with reverence about the process, like it was some kind of blessing to even be chosen for such an event. The man recoiled in horror while the woman gritted her teeth.

“Fucking Peggies!” she grumbled, disgusted.

The Peggie paused, then promptly socked the woman in the side of her face hard with the butt of his weapon. She cried out and shrunk back from the hit.

Sarah glared at him and opened her mouth to protest, but just then the van lurched sharply. None of them had time to react any further - without warning, the vehicle then flipped over and began rolling several times.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion. Shell casings and Bliss flowers flew throughout the air. The bodies of the others were thrown around chaotically, slamming into all sides of the van. The light from the van’s ceiling lamp flashed off and on, alternating between darkness and the pandemonium currently happening. After what felt like a lifetime (but was probably more like several seconds), the van eventually came to a halt - everything landing with a hard _thump_ , the ceiling light finally flickering off.

* * *

Sarah began regaining consciousness to the rumble of a man’s deep voice. It sounded far away at first, but was drawing nearer each passing second. The speaker’s voice was booming fervently, as if he were shouting, or... giving some kind of rousing speech. She caught the word ‘God’ amidst his dialogue - a sermon? Someone was... preaching?

_‘Oh God...’_ she thought, dread washing over her in waves. _‘The_ _last_ _time I woke up to a sermon, I almost drowned. What_ _now_ _??’_

The speaker didn’t sound like John, however... or even _Joseph_ for that matter - their voices were a little higher in pitch than _this_ man’s.

She opened her eyes and blinked a couple times, her vision blurry at first. There was a large shape lying on the floor (well... technically the _roof_ ) of the now upside-down van in front of her - the Peggie with the gun, she realized as he came into focus. And... he was beginning to stir also.

_“...then you must destroy them_ _totally_ _!”_ the man’s voice thundered, sounding like he was right next to the van now.

She gasped and bolted upright, attempting to ignore the minor dizziness she felt from doing so. Whirling around to the back doors of the van, she shoved her bound hands against them to escape before the Peggie regained his senses and shot her. No luck - the doors shifted from the effort, but remained shut. She frantically whipped her head back to look at the cultist, who now snarled and raised his gun.

_“Make_ _no_ _treaty with them-”_

Before the Peggie had a chance to shoot, however, the van doors were yanked open behind her. With a prompt flash of light and a burst of gunfire, the Peggie collapsed - now motionless and bleeding.

Sarah spun back to the now-open doors to see Pastor Jerome standing there, his hollowed-out bible in one hand and a pistol in the other. He lowered the weapon down to his side and turned his eyes to her now.

_“...and show them no mercy,”_ he finished reciting. He stowed the handgun inside the bible’s alcove and kneeled down while pulling a large knife from a sheath on the back of his belt.

Sarah grinned and crawled out of the van, relieved to be free from her metal prison. She waited for him cut the restraints on her wrists, then threw her arms around him as soon as she was able.

“Jerome!” she exclaimed, giving him the biggest bear hug she could manage. “I’ve never been so excited to see you in my entire life!”

He chuckled faintly and returned her embrace, then grasped her hand to help her stand up. “Stay with me Deputy,” he told her, the rich timbre of his voice like music to her ears. “Didn’t go to all this trouble just to lose you _now_.”

Another woman from the Resistance arrived next to him and equipped Sarah with a small radio and a rifle, which she took gratefully and nodded her thanks. She started to head forward, but then suddenly remembered the other captives that had been in the van with her.

“Wait! The others-” she turned around and bent a knee, peering back inside the van. She spotted the man and woman after a moment, both lying behind the Peggie’s body in uncomfortable-looking positions amidst the debris from the crash. The woman had a nasty-looking bump on the side of her forehead - the same side the Peggie had slammed his gun into, unfortunately - while the man lay face-down against the back wall.

The female Resistance member kneeled next to her and put a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll make sure they’re taken care of - I promise,” she assured Sarah. “We’ve unfortunately had a few losses already, but reinforcements are on their way here as we speak.”

Sarah took a deep breath and gently squeezed the woman’s hand. “Thank you,” she replied earnestly. “Jerome and I will do our best to make sure their sacrifices weren’t in vain.”

The woman smiled sadly and tipped her head in acknowledgement. Sarah rose once more and turned to Jerome, who gestured up the sloped road the van had rolled down to a checkpoint at the top.

“I knew it meant trouble when we couldn't reach you,” he informed her as they hurried up the dirt path. “I’m just glad the Lord pointed me in the right direction.”

They passed a pickup truck with a dead Peggie lying on the ground behind it, and Sarah could see some more bodies scattered by the checkpoint up ahead - some cultists, some Resistance. She ground her teeth together, trying to keep her mind focused on the task at hand. A few allies were gearing up by some supply crates in front of the checkpoint.

“This isn’t over yet,” Jerome cautioned her. “Cult’s got some more prisoners, and they’re movin’ them up the road. They got Merle Briggs too. Time’s wasting.” He gestured to the containers. “Grab what you can here and go save ‘em. I’ll talk to some of our people when they arrive. We’re gonna need them if we’re gonna pull this off.”

Sarah began pulling some ammo from the crate and took a deep breath. “I’ll do everything I can, you can count on it,” she promised.

“We’re with ya, Dep!” A couple of the Resistance members - men from one of the recently-liberated farms, if she remembered correctly - hurried over to them and gave her a half-salute. “Doug Lewis, Mike Young,” one of the men said, gesturing to the other man and himself respectively. “After everything you did for us - of course we’ll fight right there beside ya.”

She nodded her thanks and finished replenishing her supplies, also taking a small knife from the cache in case she needed to use a stealthy takedown. “Let’s watch ourselves out there,” she warned them. “John’s men are already gonna be pissed at us - and they’re going to be _extra_ vigilant around the hostages. We’ll have to tough it out and hold our ground until the extra help comes along.” 

* * *

A mortar. The Peggies had a freaking _mortar_.

Sarah figured she probably shouldn’t have been surprised - one of the co-leaders of the cult _was_ an ex-Army soldier that most likely had some horrifying connections to weaponry.

Mike and Doug had watched her with vacant expressions when she’d relayed their current situation to them.

“Okay, the ‘good’ news: they’re not _literally_ coming after us right now,” she’d said. “The _bad_ news... if we want to rescue Merle and any other hostages they have over there, _we_ have to get to _them_ .” She’d peered around the edge of the rocks they’d shielded themselves behind, then turned to the men again. “I’m not gonna lie to you guys, this is extremely dangerous - even more than ‘ _normal_ ’, I mean. It’s going to be difficult timing our movements just right to avoid getting hit with any of those shells - _or_ any resulting shrapnel.”

“...You're a real motivational speaker there, Deputy,” Doug had replied dryly.

The corner of Sarah’s mouth had twitched upwards into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She couldn’t blame his skepticism... these were regular civilians, _farmers_ \- getting shot at with mortar bombs wasn’t exactly a commonplace activity for them. Then again... if someone had told her a few months ago that _this_ is the kind of thing she’d be up to at this time, she might have laughed right in _their_ face, too.

She wasn’t going to make the men follow her or do her bidding. Truth be told, she didn’t know _how_ she would’ve lasted two seconds against the Peggies by herself until the Resistance sent her some help... but she certainly wasn’t going to ask anyone to risk dying on _her_ behalf, either.

After all... that would make her no better than a Seed.

And she was _not_ like any of them. Never _would_ be.

She’d rather die first.

Despite their fears about the mission (which was completely reasonable, given the circumstances), the men had insisted on helping her however they could _anyway_ \- claiming that it was the least they could do for all the help she’d given them _and_ Hope County so far. Smiling gratefully, she’d given them both an appreciate pat on the arm - and then the three of them made their move.

* * *

_‘Well... here goes nothing. Please don’t keep us waiting long, Jerome,’_ she thought anxiously. She rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet for a couple seconds and tried to prepare herself for the inevitable barrage that was to come, then pushed off from the ground hard and focused on the overpass ahead of her. When she caught a glimpse of approaching mortar shells in her peripheral vision, her heart felt like it might beat right out of her chest.

She dove under the raised stretch of road just in time for the bombs to land a few yards away from her. A booming sound not unlike thunder reverberated off of the surrounding trees and shook the ground beneath her feet. She had to shield her face to avoid getting burned from the searing heat of the first blast, while subsequent explosions briefly lit up the night sky.

When the smoke cleared enough for her to survey the immediate area again, she squinted back in the direction she’d come from to spot Mike and Doug, and signaled to them that she was all right and continuing on ahead. They both gave her a thumbs up to show that they understood. All right... so far, so good.

Her sprint to the next source of cover luckily yielded the same results, the other two men following not far behind her. Not much further ahead, Sarah spotted the footbridge where the Peggies were waiting just on the other side - and the zipline leading beneath it.

She felt a small flicker of pride as she raced toward the last source of cover before the zipline, grateful that the cult hadn’t managed to land a hit on them yet. Perhaps they had anticipated this, however - for when she was almost there, she realized a second too late that the incoming shells were going to land _right_ in front of where she was heading.

_‘Fuck!’_ her mind shrieked, trying to think on her feet in a nanosecond. She changed direction as rapidly as she could - not completely sure where she was _intending_ to go, but knowing that her planned trajectory had been a potential deathtrap. The next thing she knew, the surrounding trees blew apart - splinters of wood and balls of flame flying precariously in all directions.

“DEP!” she thought she heard one of the men yell, but couldn’t be sure over the ear-splitting noise of all-too-close detonation. The world around her became complete chaos, her mind struggling to process everything that now seemed to be happening in slow-motion: a shower of dirt and gravel pelting the land. Acrid smoke that threatened to choke her nostrils, throat, and lungs and obscure her vision. A scorching heat that singed the clothes upon her back and forced her eyes to tear up.

Evading the flying debris and a few more mortar shells was almost impossible, but she finally, _somehow_ managed to make it to the next overpass by the skin of her teeth. She dove for cover, the terrain she slid upon scraping her exposed skin up like steel wool. She forced herself upright and pushed backward with her legs, thrusting herself away from the unprotected edge of her cover. Her back slammed into the wooden wall behind her and her vision swam, reminding her of when she first woke up from her Bliss-induced blackout. A pulsing sensation in her head reminded her of alarm bells going off... or maybe that was merely a ringing in her ears from being so close to the shellburst.

“Come on Rook...” she whimpered, her resolve caving in the same way her lungs were threatening to. “Snap out of it. _Focus_.” Another explosion merely feet away had her gritting her teeth, eyes squeezing shut as she immediately pulled her knees up to her chest.

“ _Surely he will save you from the fowler’s snare and from the deadly pestilence-_ ” the words left her lips at lightning speed, old habits and instinct taking over as she tucked her face down between the tops of her knees. “ _He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart._ ” The overpass above her trembled from the force of the bombs and she clutched her legs harder, ignoring the tight opposition from the muscles in her arms from the excessive strain. She began to rock back and forth slightly, unaware of much other than the words she was concentrating on. “ _You will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day,_ ” she hissed, the familiar psalm not giving her the solace she needed quickly enough. She was vaguely aware that she sounded possessed, but couldn’t make herself care one whit at the present moment.

“Dep!” A male voice called out to her - but it sounded far away, indistinct, as if she were hearing it underwater like she had with John Seed’s voice earlier that night.

“ _Nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness, nor the plague that destroys at midday. A thousand may fall at your side, ten thousand at your right hand, but it will not come near you._ ”

She took a deep breath, the tension her muscles finally letting up - minimally. A large pair of hands abruptly seized her by the shoulders and she pulled her head up, blinking several times, the outside world slowly coming back into focus. The Peggies’ barrage of hellfire had stopped for now, and Doug was crouched in front of her saying something, concern evident on his face.

“...-all right?” he questioned, his eyes moving up and down her body as he did a hasty visual inspection.. “Are you hurt? Anything broken or bleeding?”

It took Sarah longer than she intended to respond, but finally she shook her head and inhaled deeply again. “No... no I’m okay,” she answered, her voice coming out in a hoarse wheeze. “I’m sorry, I’m- I’m all right. Just a little shaken up.”

Doug sighed with relief and nodded, giving her bicep an encouraging clap. “Ya had us real worried there for a sec, Dep... didn’t know if those damn Peggies had finally nailed ya.”

He offered his hands out to her and she took them gratefully, raising herself up on shaky legs. It appeared that Doug hadn’t seen or noticed her frenzied ramblings - a fact that Sarah was very grateful for. Perhaps he’d just thought that her huddled demeanor had been her way of evading the damage from the bombs. At any rate, she cleared her throat and quickly retreated back into her ‘business as usual’ guise - a practice she had honed after many years’ experience.

“Not _tonight_ anyway,” she quipped, taking a second to wipe the sweat from her brow. Doug chuckled as he cautiously leaned out of the safety of the overpass, signaling to Mike (who’d proceeded ahead and was crouched by the zipline, out of sight from the cultists) that they were still alive and all right. Mike waved a hand back in acknowledgment.

“All right... almost to our destination,” Sarah breathed. “Then we can finally teach these assholes a lesson they won’t soon forget. You ready?”

Doug nodded and grinned. “You said it, Dep - I definitely can’t wait to kick me some Peggie ass.”

After one last glance around to make sure the coast was clear (for now), they raced for the zipline to regroup with Mike.

* * *

Once all three of them made it down under the footbridge, they swiftly followed the road to the side of the rocky bluff the Peggies were stationed on. Near the top, they pulled themselves up over the edge of the boulders and crouched down amongst the brush and tall grass. Creeping forward with as much stealth as they could manage, they stopped when Sarah raised a hand to signal them so.

Merle and another male hostage lay on their sides in the dirt a few feet ahead, their hands tied behind their backs with rope. Meanwhile, the two Peggies in sight were standing several more yards away by the mortar, their eyes scanning the footbridge and the surrounding area for any movement.

Sarah looked from Mike to Doug and made a motion to each of them with one of her hands, indicating for them to go around in different directions to take down the cultists. She then pointed to herself and gestured toward the hostages. The men nodded and began to sneak forward, readying their weapons in case things took a turn for the worse.

Sarah crawled up to Merle and the other hostage, pulling the small knife out from where she’d sheathed it carefully within her shirt. Merle’s head turned as he caught sight of her approaching form, the other man’s head turning also, and their eyes lit up immediately. She quickly put a finger to her lips, and they nodded silently as she went to work on the ropes binding first Merle, then the other man’s wrists. She heard a thud and a quiet ‘ _oof_ ’ off to her side and smiled, knowing that Doug had successfully dispatched one of the Peggies.

A second grunt, followed by an unpleasant _crack_ soon after, let her know that Mike had taken care of the other cultist as well. “Clear!” she heard him declare a second or two later.

She resheathed the knife when she’d finished freeing the men, and she, Merle, and the other hostage stood up, Doug and Mike following suit a moment later - the dead Peggies sprawled at their feet.

“God damn!” Merle exclaimed, rubbing his wrists where the coarse rope had begun to bite into his skin. A grin broke out on his face. “Thanks, Deputy. I thought Al and I were goners!” He gestured to the man beside him, who thanked her as well, while Doug and Mike came over to them.

A crackle of static at Sarah’s side caused her to pull out the radio she was given earlier, and Jerome’s baritone voice came through the speaker.

_“Deputy, we’ve sent in a chopper to pick you up - so just hold your ground ‘til it gets there,”_ he informed them.

An angry shout caused them all to turn their heads to an area below leading up to the bridge, where a couple more Peggies were rushing towards their location.

Sarah pressed the talk button on the radio while Mike and Doug aimed their guns, Merle and Al rushing to retrieve the weapons that the other Peggies had dropped. “Jerome, what’s the ETA on that chopper?” she asked hurriedly, trying to juggle the radio and ready her own rifle at the same time.

_“About two minutes,”_ he responded. _“Our pilot’s getting there as quickly as he can - just stay strong and watch yourselves!”_

Merle let fly a spray of bullets down the rocky hill. “Sweet Jesus... these Peggies are really fuckin’ determined to get us in John’s bunker!” he hollered.

“More are on the way!” Al yelled beside him, firing off a couple shots. “I’m not sure how long we can hold out!”

Sarah rushed next to the men and observed the growing number of cultists that were headed right for their location, shouting threats and waving their guns menacingly as they ran.

_‘Oh boy... a lot can happen in two minutes,’_ she thought, muscles tensing up. She gazed around the immediate area, head whipping back and forth, trying to see if anything helpful might catch her attention. Her eyes came to rest on the mortar a few feet away from them, a nice little pile of shells still stacked next to it. Merle turned to follow her line of sight and froze, then grinned like a shark looking at its next meal.

“Oh _please_... allow me?” he asked her hopefully.

Sarah couldn’t help chuckling at his eagerness and gestured towards the mortar. “Be my guest,” she replied.

“Aww _YEAH!_ ” he crowed, dropping his gun on the ground to reach for one of the shells. The other men turned their heads to see what his excitement was and immediately jumped back, eyes wide, giving him plenty of room. He slid a shell inside the mortar and aimed it towards one of the groupings of Peggies headed their way. “Fire in the hole!” he hollered, shooting off the miniature cannon.

The Peggies must have seen the bombs coming because they changed direction and scattered frantically, diving for cover wherever they could find it.

“WOOOO!!!” the men hooted and cheered as the bombs exploded, Peggies shouting obscenities at Sarah and the other men all the while.

“I don’t like you very much!” one of the cult members bellowed, brandishing his gun at the Resistance members before he too had to launch himself as far away as possible from the hellstorm that was now raining down on them.

“Yeah, well that’s what ya get for stealin’ my truck, ya frickin’ bastards!” Merle yelled back, flipping them off with both hands before loading another shell into the mortar and letting it fly.

_“Deputy! Chopper’s coming in soon, get ready!”_ Jerome’s voice called out from the radio.

Sure enough, the sound of helicopter rotors began to fill the air - starting off faint, but building in volume. Before long, Sarah and the others could see the chopper silhouetted against the night sky, making its way toward the uppermost part of the peak.

“All right, get ready to run guys!” Sarah called out to the other men, having to shout to make sure she could be heard over the increasing noise of the aircraft. “Once we stop firing on the Peggies, I don’t think they’re gonna be too keen to let us get away in one piece!”

Merle let loose one last volley of shellfire from the mortar before the group bolted away from the footbridge and raced to the higher ground. It wasn’t long - maybe only a few seconds - before they could hear the furious outcry of the cultists behind them. Gunfire broke out as they ran, narrowly missing them by inches.

“Hurry up, hurry up!” one of the Resistance members yelled, and Sarah wasn’t completely sure if he’d been referring to them, or to the helicopter pilot - who was just now touching the chopper’s landing skids upon the terrain as they drew near. Everyone flinched as a couple slugs embedded themselves into the side of the chopper.

Sarah reached it first and paused by the already open door, turning around to make sure everyone was still behind her and unharmed. “Go, get in!” she barked, making sure they’d all boarded before she finally climbed in herself.

“Alright alright LET’S GO! MOVE!” someone shouted anxiously as the pilot took off again, the helicopter rising slowly. The Peggies made their attempts to fire upon the machinery, but luckily the few bullets that actually _reached_ the chopper merely ricocheted off.

When they were high enough in the air and started moving onward past the bridge, there was a heavy, collected sigh of relief from everyone. Nervous smiles started appearing on their faces when it sunk in that they were actually okay.

Mike chuckled and leaned his head partway out the open chopper door. “YEEAAHH! Take _THAT,_ ya cultist freaks!” he bellowed to the Peggies cursing below. “Don't you EVA’ mess with our ‘DEP-YU-TEEEE’!!!”

The other men laughed as a slight heat rose to Sarah’s cheeks. She was grateful that they probably couldn't tell in the dim moonlight.

“Man, my heart’s beatin’ a million times a minute!” Merle said. “God damn, Deputy. You swung in there and saved our asses. Who _knows_ what these bastards were gonna do to us?”

“They really think they’re saving us,” Doug added incredulously. “ _SAVING_ US! Locked up in some shithole? Get outta here.”

“Those fuckin’ cowards swarmed me ‘n Al,” Merle continued. “They said they were _saving_ us. Told us to put our trust in the Father. Who the fuck’s the Father _anyway??_ ” He shook his head and grunted. “They shoulda put a bullet in my head. I _was_ pissed off - now I’m fuckin’ furious!”

Sarah’s radio suddenly crackled to life again.

“That was some nice work, Rook!” Jerome’s voice praised her. “I know your friends - the _other_ Deputies - are still in the hands of two of the Seeds...”

Sarah swallowed hard, the mention of Deputies Pratt and Hudson making her feel like there was suddenly a rock in her stomach. She hadn’t forgotten about Hudson... and she had tried to help Pratt _earlier_ ... tried _so_ hard _..._ but.....

“-once we’re strong enough, we’ll free them and every last one of those prisoners,” Jerome was saying. “That’s a promise. For now though, I’m going to head back to Fall’s End. If you need me, I’ll be in the church doing what I do best: repairing, reuniting, and redeeming.”

Sarah took a deep breath and raked her hands through her hair, suddenly feeling very weary. The men in the helicopter continued talking excitedly amongst themselves, but she didn’t really hear their words, lost in her own thoughts. She wanted to be happy for their small victory tonight... wanted to be grateful to be rescued and set free from the Peggies... from John Seed... but what about those who wouldn’t sleep so soundly tonight? ...Those who didn’t know if they’d ever sleep soundly again?

_‘I told you, you’re_ _not_ _a hero,’_ he had said to her back then as he loomed over her, almost sounding bored. _‘You are a_ _tool_ _...’_

She didn’t even notice that the chopper had arrived at the drop-off point (a helipad not far from Fall’s End) until the landing skids touched upon the ground again with a small _thud_. She jolted upright in her seat, pulse spiking for a few seconds as she came back to reality again.

The other Resistance members were already exiting the helicopter and shaking hands, bidding each other farewell.

“I can’t thank you enough, Deputy,” Merle said when Sarah hopped out as well, giving her a grateful pat on the back. “I need to walk this one off. I’ll regroup with the Resistance later, though. You ever need anything, you hit me up, ya hear?”

Sarah nodded absently, still a bit distracted. She watched the others depart, Holland Valley settling into peace again... for now. She sat on the grass and listened to the crickets chirp for a minute or two, not quite sure what her next move should be. Maybe she should just head back to Fall’s End, too... Mary May always let her stay in her spare room at the Spread Eagle, and it might give her a chance to clear her head, regroup with her allies, formulate a plan.

Static hissed from her radio’s speaker again - someone contacting her on this frequency. Perhaps Jerome had forgotten something, or one of her other friends needed assistance. She resisted the urge to grumble - in the last few hours, she _had_ been knocked unconscious ( _more_ than once), almost drowned and blown up, had a small panic attack, _and_ helped rescue quite a few people, after all. She took a deep breath and held up the radio, preparing herself for whatever was about to be asked of her.

What she had _not_ prepared for, however, is the voice that addressed her instead.

“Deputyyy...”

All the air seemed to rush out of Sarah’s lungs in an instant. The youngest Seed brother was the _last_ person she wanted to hear from right now. ...Well... maybe the _second_ -to last person.

“You’ve had your fun,” he continued calmly, not giving her a chance to interrupt. “But all sinners must confess. This is the will of The Father. My men _will_ be coming for you again.” There was a pause, and Sarah could almost see the sadistic smile on the man’s face before he spoke his final words to her that evening.

“...I’ll see you _soon_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few notes:  
> 1) Any future discussion or mention of religion, religious themes, etc. is never meant to annoy, bore, or offend anyone at all, ever. And with all due respect: if having religion even *mentioned* bothers you... you can't like Far Cry 5 all THAT much, can you? (Lol)
> 
> 2) Yes, lots of fics tend to use 'Rook' as part of the Deputy's actual name. I didn't ALSO do this out of 'laziness' - I just thought the idea that Sherrif Whitehorse/the other Deputies/Marshall Burke nicknaming her 'Rookie' when it's a play on her actual last name was kind of cute.
> 
> 3) For anyone curious: the 'Love is patient, love is kind' bible passage that Joseph and Sarah both recite during her 'Cleansing' is from '1 Corinthians 13' in the bible. ...Yes, I added to this scene in the game. Not only did it seem 'apropos' to the situation, but... well... you'll see more flashes of this side of Sarah as the fic progresses. ;-)
> 
> 4) Yes, you will see scenes from the game that I have 'tweaked' or changed a bit. This will happen more and more as the fic goes on, and the fic will eventually go into a canon-divergent direction. I use some familiar scenes as kind of a 'jumping off point'.
> 
> 5) Don't get too attached or concentrate TOO much on any 'extras' that I happen to name... it wouldn't really do for me to continuously type things like 'that guy', 'the man', 'the OTHER man', 'the SECOND woman', 'the other Resistance member', etc. It would get old REALLY fast and be annoying to read, lol. 'Mike' and 'Doug' and 'Al' were just an easier way to identify people that weren't already officially named canon characters, lol. 
> 
> 6) Rated this fic 'Mature' instead of 'Teen and Up' because there's definitely going to be swearing (as I'm sure you've already read) and Far Cry-style violence in the fic, and I wasn't 100% sure where 'the line' was, so I erred on the side of caution. Just FYI.
> 
> 7) “Surely he will save you from the fowler’s snare and from the deadly pestilence..." = Sarah's 2nd 'bible utterance', from 'Psalm 91' (for the curious).
> 
> 8) " “I don’t like you very much!” one of the cult members bellowed..." = inspired by an arcade clip that 'SolidHawk' posted on her Tumblr of a Peggie yelling this at her Deputy, and I laughed at this for a good 10 minutes. What an insult. *XD
> 
> 9) This is my first ever 'Far Cry 5' fanfic, and only my second fanfic EVER. ...Please go easy on me, lol. I don't have a beta reader for this fic either, so I've read and reread and rewritten and RErewritten and RE-REwritten and RE-RE-REWRITTEN this chapter... God knows how many times. It almost killed me, lol. I swear I tried to do my best with it, but please know that I have a lot of really neat (*I* think, anyway) story ideas for this fic, and it will ONLY get better from here (...I hope). So please stick with me, give me a chance, and I really think I won't disappoint people (...much. LOL).
> 
> 10) Finally (I do not plan on MOST chapters having this many story notes, I swear, lol), about the title of this fic, 'The Book of John': I didn't pick this title just because 'it sounded similar to The Book of Joseph and I thought that was cute'. There IS an 'actual', intellectual reason behind my decision to pick this title - and you will have to keep reading this fic if you want to find out what that reason is, muahaha! >XD 
> 
> For fic updates, Far Cry 5 related goodness, or Fallout/Fallout 4 related goodness, please feel free to also check out my Tumblr! My user name is 'SoleSurvivorKat'.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sarah attempts to go help an ally with Sharky, but - of course - things don't go to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I'm so, *SO* sorry you guys had to wait so long for the 2nd chapter! It seems so cliche to say, but life has been crazy and I've had only a TINY bit of free time (up until VERY recently) to work on my fic. I actually had wanted this chapter to be completed at least a couple WEEKS ago, but life had other plans.  
> This chapter was also actually going to be even *longer*, but I decided to break it up into 2 slightly smaller chapters so it wouldn't seem like I was cramming too much together.  
> I really do hope you guys like it, and I will try to get the next chapter going as soon as I possibly can! Thank you for your patience! <3

_“...The unsanctioned nuclear testing off the coast of Asia continues. Although most countries in the region have agreed to abide by the nuclear weapons ban, North Korea was not one of them. Washington is trying to convince our allies in the area to exert pressure to stop the testing, but it's not looking likely...”_

Sarah reached across the table towards her two-way radio and changed the channel with an abrupt flick of her wrist. With everything that had happened since she’d left Dutch’s bunker, she hadn’t regularly listened to the national news in... well, a long while - and what she _did_ hear on the odd occasion was... not very positive.

_‘Something is coming. You can feel it, can’t you?’_ Joseph Seed’s voice trickled through her memory, making her recall that first fateful night in his church. _‘That we are creeping toward the edge... and there will be a reckoning...’_

She sighed and rested her head in her hands, elbows upon the table she sat at in the Spread Eagle. “You’re wrong,” she whispered to no one in particular, the hushed remark slipping away from her and vanishing into the empty bar. “It’s ridiculous. Paranoid. ...You’re _wrong_.”

Maybe if she said it enough times... it would be true. Unquestionable.

...Maybe she would believe it herself.

She picked her head up and looked at the white leather-bound book on the table in front of her. The book she’d taken from the abandoned house she’d slept in last night. The book she’d wanted to burn just looking at it, but for reasons she didn’t wholly understand... had taken it _with_ her, instead. The book with a golden Project at Eden’s Gate cross stamped on the front of it.

The Book of Joseph.

...If Mary May knew this book was currently inside her bar, in contact with one of her bar tables... Sarah didn't even want to _know_ what she might do. Might do to _her._

...This was a very stupid idea. What the hell was she doing?

She raked both hands through her hair and took a deep breath.

_‘It's just a book. No harm ever came from reading a BOOK... right?’_

Famous last words.

Her fingertips flipped open the cover with uncertainty, as if the Father himself might come bursting through its pages at her.

_‘...I’ll just_ _skim_ _it,’_ she decided skeptically.

* * *

After a time, she closed the book once more - but didn’t immediately withdraw her palm from its leather cover. She sat in silence, trying to process the parts of the book she’d read in detail.

Much of it was a longer, more elaborate version of the things Joseph _usually_ preached about: God, sinners, cleansing one’s soul and atonement, how the world was a sick place (growing sicker all the time), and how the Collapse was imminent. How the righteous would be saved (only a _handful_ , though), while the corrupt would be purged from the earth. How pain and suffering were ‘necessary for training’, but they were _nothing_ compared to what one would have to endure on the first day of the end of the world.

_“I don’t ask my followers for money,”_ one of the passages had read. _“I don’t care if they are rich or poor. I am asking them for far more than their fortunes - I am asking for their spirits and their lives. I require them to sacrifice their own desires and give themselves over entirely to our grand plan. If you want to live, this is the price you must pay.”_

And as if _that_ wasn’t chilling enough... there was _more_.

The book discussed Joseph. Jacob. John. And to a lesser extent, Faith. What their purposes were for the Project, and how the Seed brothers - how _Joseph_ \- had started it in the first place. How their _lives_ had started in the first place.

.....And it was nothing short of appalling.

Abuse. Neglect. Hardship. While not a _lot_ of detail was given about the early lives of the Seed men ... it was _enough_.

Getting belt-whipped constantly by their drunken, fanatical father. Their mother doing nothing to stop it - barely even being a part of their lives. Finally getting taken away from their parents - only to be given to a couple that used the boys solely for hard labor without a single day’s rest. The boys only being allowed to sleep in a barn and only fed out of necessity - until Jacob had had enough one night and burned everything down. Getting separated from each other for many years until an adult Joseph found John, and then Jacob again.

...And all of _that_ was on top of the _other_ stuff Jacob and Joseph had told her about during her imprisonment at Jacob’s compound - events that had happened to the two of them before all three brothers had been reunited again (...she’d slept even _less_ than ‘normal’ after that for quite a while).

By _no_ means did it _excuse_ the actions that the Seeds were responsible for up until this point (terrible, _despicable_ acts), but... it certainly shed some light on a few things.

And Sarah felt nauseated over it.

So distracted was she, that she didn’t even notice when Pastor Jerome entered the bar, or when he did a double-take upon spotting her and walked over. It was only when he gently cleared his throat that she flinched and looked up, startled by his appearance.

“Doing a little recreational reading?” he asked her wryly, his gaze dropping to the book under her palm.

She looked down at it and then back up at him again, her face heating up in an instant. She swallowed hard.

“I- I can explain,” she blurted out. “I wasn’t- I mean...” She sighed and closed her eyes for a couple seconds, feeling defeated. “...I’m not going Peggie on you Jerome,” she promised.

“Relax, Deputy,” he assured her with a gentle smile, holding a hand up to her. “You're not the only one curiosity has ever gotten ahold of.” He gestured to the empty seat in front of her and she nodded.

“You’ve read it too?” she asked, raising an eyebrow while he sat down. “So you know about the Seeds’... youth?”

“I do indeed,” he replied, his tone somber. “Some of it straight ‘from the horse’s mouth’, actually. Joseph and I, well... we used to discuss quite a _few_ things, long before the cult started getting more... ‘aggressive’.”

There was silence between the two of them for a few seconds, each temporarily lost in their own thoughts.

“I can’t help wondering...” Sarah said, thinking out loud. “I don’t mean to get hung up on hypotheticals and ‘what ifs’, but... I question how different things _might_ have been, if only...”

_‘...if the Seeds’ father hadn’t been abusive... if their mother had done something to stop it... if their childhood had been relatively normal... if they’d all been kept together instead of separated as children...’_

_‘...if only I had walked away from Joseph that night when I’d had the chance, left well enough alone...’_

She paused and took a deep breath. “Well... if a _lot_ of things had happened differently, I guess.”

Jerome stared at her with a blank expression for a moment, then gave a small sigh and shook his head. “It’s awful, what happened to the Seeds all those years ago. Inhumane. Inexcusable. But what you need to keep in mind, Deputy, is that turning the other cheek - _that_ is the righteous path. Sometimes bad things happen in life... sometimes _horrendous_ things. It’s unreasonable to expect one to remain unscathed from extreme hardship... but that also doesn’t give you free reign to cause similar suffering on others, either. If anything, you should _learn_ from others’ mistakes and try to do _better_ by them.” He hesitated, then reached across the table and patted her hand, giving her a small smile.

“Don’t dwell on that which you cannot change, Deputy. I meant what I told you before - you’re the first good thing to happen to this Valley in a long time. No matter what happens, never lose that spark of life in you, that _compassion_. Remember - the more good we do, the more it illuminates the world around us.”

Sarah didn't know if her concerns were totally appeased... but didn’t want to appear rude, so she forced a brittle smile to her face anyway.

A thud from the stairs nearby redirected their focus. By the time Mary May’s cheerful face appeared descending from the upper floor of the bar, Sarah had inconspicuously slid the Book of Joseph off the table and into her pack on the floor.

“Hey, Deputy!” Mary May greeted warmly, strolling over to her and Jerome. “I didn't know you were back in Fall’s End! Glad to see you’re still in one piece. Nice job on the rescue last night - heard not all of those Peggie vehicles made it to John’s bunker ‘safe and sound’.” She snorted and gave her a mischievous wink.

Sarah chuckled and gestured to the priest sitting across from her. “Well, you should _really_ direct your praise at Jerome here,” she said. “If not for him, I might be missing a large section of my skin by now.”

“It was a team effort,” he replied. “We’re pretty much on our own out here. If we Resistance members don’t look out for each other... who will?”

Mary May opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted when Sarah’s radio gave out a hiss of static - a familiar, gravelly voice emerging from its speaker.

“Dep? You there? Gotta situation I think you need to know about...”

Sarah raised an eyebrow as she reached out and held down the radio’s talk button. “Sharky? I’m here, what’s the problem?”

There was a distinct pause while they waited for him to respond. “I don’t quite know how to tell ya this Dep, but... that Sheriff you and the other Deputies came to Hope County with? Uh, ‘White-’... somethin’ was his name?”

Sarah’s blood turned cold. “Sheriff _Whitehorse??_ ”

“Yeah, that’s the one,” Sharky replied. “I know you weren’t sure where he ended up - turns out he’s at the Hope County Jail in Faith Seed’s region, along with these anti-Peggie folks called the Cougars. ...They're named after a minor league baseball team.” A slight chuckle was heard over the radio. “Man, me and Hurk Jr. - we used to get shit-housed and watch them every Sunday-”

“Hey- Shark, focus,” Sarah cut in impatiently.

“Right, right. Anywho, they’re holed up at the county jail. Normally there’s no better place to seek refuge if ya ask me - but they’ve had to fight off Faith’s Peggies and angels more an’ more lately, and they could really use our help.”

Sarah inhaled sharply. She was relieved to know Whitehorse was alive and amongst allies, but... going to Faith’s region again - the ‘Bliss capital’ of Hope County - well... it was trading one demon for another. She’d already escaped from Jacob Seed by the skin of her teeth ( _without_ Staci Pratt, to her dismay). She’d barely gotten away from John Seed’s clutches _last night_ \- and his followers were going to be gunning for her even _more_ now, on John’s assurance.

She might be better off getting out of Holland Valley _entirely_ \- for now - but that was assuming his Peggies didn’t bother them before they crossed the border into the Henbane River region. The few times she’d been there, she’d been (relatively) lucky _so_ far...

She _had_ been trying to work on getting Joey Hudson free from John’s clutches, but... maybe if she had Sheriff Whitehorse’s help...

She looked to Mary May and then Jerome, who nodded in encouragement.

“Go,” he urged softly. “We'll be all right here for now, and we know how to reach you if we need you.”

“Although... Sharky Boshaw isn’t exactly the ‘stealthiest’ guy in the region,” Mary May added with a smirk. “So... you might need _us_ before we need _you_. Maybe... use some extra caution out there.”

“Thanks for the pep talk,” Sarah muttered, causing the other two to chuckle. She pushed down the radio’s talk button again. “Sharky? Consider it done. I’m at the Spread Eagle-”

“Hell yeah!” he cheered. “Knew you’d feel that way, ‘Po-Po’ - I’m already on my way there. See ya soon, Sharky out!”

Sarah smiled at his nickname for her and shook her head. Charlemagne Victor Bowshaw might have been a lot of things: a pyromaniac, a bit of a klutz, a redneck, and an oddball... but in a weird way, he was also one of her closest friends. She couldn’t quite explain it - he and she couldn’t _be_ much more different from each other... but she didn’t really _care_ if it made sense. It didn’t have to.

“I suppose I’ll head back to the church then,” Jerome said, standing up from the table. “As you ladies know, my work is never done.” He reached forward and patted Sarah’s shoulder. “We can’t afford to lose a single one of our fighters, Deputy. The Seeds are making a lot of people suffer right now - you make sure you watch your back.”

She nodded and watched him go, then turned to Mary May - blinking in surprise at the concerned expression on her face now.

“You _will_ be extra careful, right?” Mary May asked. “Especially after last night. John Seed _enjoys_ making people suffer.” She hesitated, then pulled the collar of her t-shirt down with one hand - revealing the word ‘ENVY’ tattooed across her upper sternum. “I’m sure I hardly have to remind you that this isn’t even the _worst_ thing he’s ever done to me,” she murmured. “Once he sets his sight on you... he and his followers don’t seem to concentrate on much else.”

Sarah nodded, her throat growing tight. “I’ll be as careful as I can,” she promised. “Hopefully Sharky and I won’t run into any Peggies on our way to the jail - in _either_ region.”

Mary May took a deep breath, then nodded back. “Well... keep us updated, then. Let us know if you run into any trouble. In the meantime, I gotta get more alcohol from my other stash. Damn Seeds have convinced our supply trucks to stop making their shipments to us.” She rolled her eyes as she walked to the back of the bar and headed out the back exit.

Sarah was about to head out of the bar herself when her radio crackled to life once more, a different gruff voice reaching out to her this time.

“Holy shit, kid! I heard about what happened last night - sounds like you’ve pissed in John’s cornflakes. He’s gonna be throwin’ all he’s got after you.”

“Morning, Dutch. Good to speak to you too,” Sarah replied dryly. “Don't worry - Sharky and I are gonna head out of Holland Valley for a little while. Hope County jail needs our help, and I can check in with Sheriff Whitehorse - maybe get his help with rescuing Hudson.”

Dutch grunted and she could practically see him shaking his head.

“If I had a nickel for every dumbass stunt of Sharky Bowshaw’s that went tits up, I’d be a fucking millionaire,” he grumbled. “Still - he’s a fighter, and he don’t have any love for Eden’s Gate. Beggars can’t be choosers, I guess. You’d better keep your head on a swivel though Deputy, ‘cause John’ll sure as shit be sending his men after you - and since you know the Seeds don't interfere in each other's territory, he’ll be fuckin’ determined to sink his hooks into you _before_ you cross the Henbane River. I know you got out by the skin of your teeth _last_ time, but don’t underestimate this bastard. Dutch out.”

Sarah sighed and sat back in her chair. She knew everyone was just warning her because they cared, but they were making her feel even more on edge than usual. Having to constantly look over her shoulder, watch every single move- every _step_ she made... it was beginning to drain her.

...Freakin’ Seeds. This was all _their_ fault. Everything that’d happened since she and the other officers had arrived at Joseph’s compound was their fault. They had started all this. It was one thing to believe in something, to form a way of life around it... it was certainly _another_ to take so much away from other people - to manipulate them, steal from them, hurt them, kidnap and attempt to brainwash them, torture them... _kill_ them.

Okay, so the Seeds had had a shitty childhood. ...An unbelievably horrendous, brutal, abusive, repulsive and inhumane childhood (one that no child, _no one_ deserved).

...And quite possibly a similar adolescence.

.....And adulthood.

As unfortunate as it was... did that totally absolve them of the heinous crimes they had committed on the people of Hope County? Did that make it _okay_ , all the pain they had inflicted upon other innocent people?

_No_ _._

She thrust her hands into her hair and closed her eyes, wishing for a moment that she could will herself away, be somewhere else, someplace far away from here - away from the constant fighting, the danger and incessant risk of death, the hardship and struggle just to try and keep a (relatively) normal life.

_‘That’s why_ _you’re_ _here,’_ a voice in her head reminded her. _‘You’re the hope for these people. This is your lot in life... your burden to bear. They’re depending on you... they need you. Stop being so selfish and deal with it - the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.’_

She heard the sound of an approaching vehicle and sighed again as she stood up from the table. However temporary a feeling it’d been, guilt washed over her for her hesitation to do her duty unquestionably.

_‘Time to do what you do best.’_

She exited the bar and smiled at the man that immediately hopped out of the pickup truck parked outside.

“DEP!” Sharky exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear, and Sarah wouldn’t have been surprised if Jerome had heard him all the way down at the Fall’s End church.

“Shark- _oof!_ ” She grunted as he rushed forward and roughly seized her around her middle, wrapping his arms around her in a crushing hug.

“Great to see you again, amigo!” he crowed, lifting her up off of her feet and twirling her around in a circle. “Feels like it’s been forever!”

“It’s been less than a _week_ , Sharky,” she chuckled weakly, pushing him back a bit so she could breathe.

“Yeah I know,” he replied, finally putting her back down and stepping back to give her some room. “But I heard you got nabbed by John Seed and I was-” He stopped speaking abruptly, his mouth hanging open for a couple seconds as he tried to figure out how to finish his thought.

Sarah gave him a coy smile. “Charlemagne Bowshaw... were you about to tell me that you were _worried_ about me?” She batted her eyelashes dramatically.

“ _NO_ ,” he snapped back, narrowing his eyes. “I just... didn’t want you kickin’ John’s ass without lettin’ me get one or two hits in for good measure.” He let out a small huff, his lips forming a slight pout.

“Riiiiight,” she responded, grinning as she gave him a playful shove and headed for the passenger side of the truck.

Sharky huffed again and got back in behind the wheel. “John Seed,” he murmured, shaking his head and starting the ignition as Sarah climbed into her seat. “What a fuckin’ self-absorbed dick, huh? You just _know_ he jerks off in the mirror and marvels at his fuckin’ facial expressions.”

Sarah snorted and rubbed her forehead, trying not to even _remotely_ picture that scenario. “That is... very gross, Sharky.”

“Probably true though,” he retorted. Once their seat belts were buckled, he backed the truck up, then drove back towards the main road. “So tell me about last night - what exactly happened? How’d you and the pastor get outta _that_ one?”

* * *

Sarah recapped the previous day’s events for him - starting with rescuing the hostage with Boomer, to escaping the Peggies with Merle and the other Resistance members via helicopter, concluding with John’s warning to her over the radio. Sharky listened with rapt attention the whole time, only interrupting occasionally to add a comment here or there.

“Whoo, sounds like ‘Broseph’s’ mad!” he’d cut in with amusement when she’d mentioned how the youngest Seed had acted in the presence of his older brother. “Ohh, family probs! John’s like that little brother that gets held down and farted on, and then curls into a ball and cries.”

Sarah had almost laughed at this... but the thought of John Seed getting harrassed only reminded her of his cruel childhood. Her smile had vanished as fast as it had appeared.

“So wait - John tattoos the name of a sin onto your chest and then carves it _out?_ ” Sharky asked when she was done filling him in, his eyes widening. He grunted, then shook his head. “Why would _anyone_ be a Peggie? I mean, say what you will about Catholic priests and _believe me_ you can say a lot - but at least they only make you say a few ‘Hail Mary’s when you sin. Good thing Pastor Jerome was able to rescue you. Sometimes I get to thinking... he’s the next messiah.”

She glanced at him with a raised eyebrow and he waved a hand at her. “No listen man, I’m serious, okay? He’s like always at the right place at the right time. He broke you loose from the cleansing and the two of you spoiled John’s little fuckin’ kidnap haul. Good, man. Fuck that guy sideways.” He paused, then held a finger up. “... _John_ , I mean, not the _Pastor_ ,” he clarified. “I don’t think Pastors can fuck. I mean, not that, like... if he _could_ fuck, I’d try to fuck with him...” Sarah pursed her lips and stared at him, slightly amused. “But... whatever - he’s the shit, and fuck John,” he finished.

She finally couldn’t help letting out a quiet chuckle. “Sharky... never change,” she murmured.

He grinned and gave her a thumbs-up. “Anything ya say, Dep.”

She shook her head with a smile, casting a quick glimpse out her window as they passed by Sunrise Farm. She started to turn back towards Sharky when something in her side view mirror suddenly caught her eye: another pickup truck following behind them. A white one.

Her smile faded and she turned around to look through the back window for a better view. No sooner had she done so then the other truck sped up, its engine revving audibly.

“Oh no...” she muttered, her body tensing up. “Sharky!”

Sharky peered up at his rearview mirror, following her line of sight. “Is that- _shit_.”

She whirled around to face him. “Damn it... I knew John would send his Peggies after me again soon, but I didn't think he’d send them _less than 24 hours later!_ ”

_‘Think think think think think...’_

“God damn,” Sharky said, shooting Sarah an incredulous side glance. “Aunt Addie was right - John Seed really _does_ have a hard-on for you. Maybe you two _should_ just uh... you know, get it over with already and fu-”

“SHARKY!” She barked before he could finish his thought, her face heating up. “Not the time, and not helping!” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, taking a moment to refocus. “I’m sorry - I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. This isn’t your fight anyway - _I’m_ the one he and his followers want right now. I don’t want _you_ dragged into this if you don’t _have_ to be. Maybe if we can get away long enough for you to drop me off somewhere, I can lead them away-”

“Fuck that!” he shot back, his eyes narrowing at her. “No offense Dep, but I’ll be fucked if I’m just gonna leave you someplace and look after numero uno. No can do - we’re in this _together_ now. Where you go, _I_ go, capice?”

Sarah couldn’t help smiling, overcome by gratitude. “Thanks Shark,” she said, reaching over to give one of his hands a small squeeze. “So what-”

They both jumped as a shot rang out, a bullet ricocheting off the side of the truck.

“ _Shit_ ,” she hissed. “Okay, we can’t be _too_ far from the Henbane River... if we can last until then and make it over the bridge, they won’t follow us into Faith’s region!”

“Hell yeah!” Sharky smiled. “Hold on tight Dep, time for us to lose these freaks!” He stepped on the gas, his truck lurching forward as it accelerated. The cult truck behind them sped up also, determined not to trail too far behind.

She turned to look back at them, grinding her teeth when she saw one of the Peggies lean out the passenger window holding a pistol. “It’s deputy hunting season!” he shouted, a sly smile upon his face.

“Urgh, _that's_ the best he could come up with? These guys have no creativity,” she muttered. Sharky laughed while she readied her own gun, just in case. The Peggie hanging out of the truck aimed his weapon in their direction and fired. The bullet whizzed by Sarah's window and cracked the edge of the side view mirror.

“Careful! Don’t kill ‘em! John wants this one _alive!_ ” she heard one of the other Peggies yell.

Sarah leaned out her window long enough to fire a couple warning shots back at them, hoping it would deter the cultists at least a _little_ (which... unfortunately, it didn’t). She began to consider suggesting Sharky go off-road to pursue a different route when the Peggies closed the distance between the two vehicles with an extra burst of speed. They rammed the back of Sharky’s truck, sending the two of them jerking forward in their seats.

“Aw, these asshats are _really_ startin’ to piss me off!” Sharky yelled, glaring into his rearview mirror. “At least Holland Valley Station isn't too much further away... once we make it beyond that, we should be as good as free from John Seed’s fuckin’ tattooed hands!”

The truck behind them suddenly slowed down considerably, putting a growing amount of space in between them. Sarah blinked, confused, and turned her head to look from the Peggies to Sharky - but her attention diverted to the road in front of them when she caught sight of some movement in the rapidly shrinking distance.

“ _Sharky!_ ” she shrieked.

His eyes lowered back down to the road a couple seconds too late to react in time to the _second_ Peggie truck that seemed to come out of nowhere. It screeched to a halt across the middle of the road in front of them, blocking their way forward.

“ _Shit!_ ” he yelled. He slammed on the brakes, but couldn’t stop or even slow down fast enough to avoid plowing the front of his truck into the front of theirs. The next thing he or Sarah knew, they were smashing into the truck’s deploying airbags, their limbs momentarily flailing about like rag dolls. It was a good thing they’d been wearing their seatbelts - otherwise they might have gone flying over the dashboard, crashed through the windshield, and careened into the second Peggie truck or skidded across the pavement ahead of them. Though the collision was over as quickly as it had happened, the almost-deafening sound of crunching metal and tearing plastic seemed to go on and on. Finally, all was still from either truck involved, an eerie silence continuing for several seconds afterward.

Sarah wasn’t sure exactly how much time passed before she recovered her senses, but when she slowly pulled her head up from the airbag (a task which took a bit of effort), she squinted at the second Peggie truck. Her vision was a little blurry, but she saw the driver hunched over the steering wheel facing away from them. His passenger sat with his head drooping forward, eyes closed.

She looked over at Sharky, who pushed back in his seat with a groan. As he turned towards her, his eyes widened a little.

“Aw geez Dep, your head...” he murmured.

She ran a hand across her forehead and reflexively jerked it away again, hissing when she felt a flash of pain above her eyes. She didn’t miss the wet red dots that came away on her fingertips. it wasn’t enough to be _really_ concerned - but enough to know that she wasn’t totally unscathed from the crash, either.

“I’ll be fine... are _you_ hurt?” she asked, her eyes scanning him up and down for any obvious injuries.

He shifted in his seat and grunted, but shook his head. “Might have a bruised rib or something, but nothing I can’t walk off.” He glanced up at his rearview mirror and his posture went rigid. “Or in _this_ case, _run_ off. We gotta go, Dep. _Now!_ ”

As his hands flew to his door handle, Sarah whirled around to the truck’s back window and saw the first cultist truck rapidly approaching the scene. The passenger Peggie that’d fired at them before was back out his window, aiming his pistol again. She let out a noise of frustration as she grabbed her pack from the floor of the truck and pushed her door open, leaping outside. Dashing around to the driver’s side of the vehicle, she snatched Sharky’s outstretched, waiting hand.

“Shoot ‘em with the Bliss!” one of the Peggies yelled behind them as they took off running towards the woods, which seemed so far away - _too_ far. “Check your fire - we only need to hit ‘em _once!_ Remember, John wants ‘er _alive!_ ”

_‘Oh God Sharky, I’m_ _so_ _sorry,’_ she wanted to tell him, forced to save her breath for running faster as he pulled her forward with him. _‘This is all my fault, and you shouldn’t have to be involved in all this-’_

A shot whizzed past her ear and she spared a passing glance behind her to see the Peggies’ truck racing over the grass behind them, quickly catching up. Her head swiveled around frantically, desperate to find some kind of cover for them to head to or uneven ground the truck wouldn’t be able to pursue them on - and coming up shit out of luck.

“Sharky-” she panted, “You have to go!” She tugged her hand out of his grip as they continued running, trying to ignore the hurt look on his face as she did so. “It’s _me_ they want right now - I can lead them _away_ from you! You need to get someplace safe!”

“I told you earlier, fuck that!” he huffed, sweat starting to drip down his face from their exertion. “I ain’t leavin’ you behind! ‘Ride or die’, remember?”

They didn’t get time to exchange any further words - a Bliss bullet suddenly nailed Sharky in the shoulder and he yelled out in pain.

“ _NO!_ ” Sarah cried out, before another one struck the middle of her back. “Ahh, _fuck!_ ” she shrieked. She was already in pain from the crash and the bullet only served to exacerbate it. They both tumbled down to the grass and she tried to pull Sharky back up, but the effects of her own Bliss bullet were already taking hold and she sank back down on trembling knees.

“Dep...” Sharky murmured weakly, his eyes fluttering closed. “I’m... sorry...”

She was vaguely aware of the truck pulling around them and coming to a halt as the three Peggies inside all jumped out of the vehicle.

“Woo, yeah!” the Peggie that had been in the front passenger seat cheered. “Tie ‘em up!”

She used her remaining strength to crawl closer to Sharky, shielding his body with her own. “Leave ‘im alone, you bastards,” she growled protectively, the advancing Peggies starting to swirl before her eyes. “You caught me. Leave him _out_ of this.”

“John says bring ya in, we’re gonna bring ya _both_ in!” another of the Peggies barked. “If you don’t want to make things worse for yourself _or_ him, you’ll behave and come quietly.”

Sarah snarled and drew forth her pistol, unaffected when the Peggies drew their weapons on the two of them as well. Her index finger just barely hovered over the trigger as she aimed at the nearest cultist. She was tempted... _so_ tempted to fire into his chest - but her eyes trailed down to the man laying underneath her, and it was he that stayed her hand. It would’ve been so easy to kill at least _one_ of the Peggies before the Bliss rendered her unconscious ( _again_ )... but it also would’ve been just as easy for the Peggies to shoot and kill Sharky before they took her away. If Sharky died because of her bloodlust, she’d _never_ be able to forgive herself.

She exhaled with frustration and slowly lowered the pistol, fighting hard to stay awake as much as she could. Through her growing Bliss-induced haze, she saw one of the Peggies grin as he stepped forward.

“Wise decision, sinner,” he sneered. “John’ll be happy to see you.” Before Sarah could react or even think further, he raised the butt of the rifle he was holding and bashed it into the left side of her face.

She briefly felt excruciating pain, then sank into darkness as the world dissolved around her.

* * *

That sound... what was it?

Some sort of... muffled noise. Was that... shouting?

Sarah began to awaken, her memory hazy. She shook her head a bit and instantly regretted the action, pain taking control of the side of her face and forehead. Wincing, she attempted to raise a hand up, but alarm seized her when she found she couldn’t move. Wriggling her body a little, she realized that her arms and legs were tethered securely in front of her to a chair.

Peeking one eye open first, then the other, she moaned quietly at the ache in her head and squinted in the dim light around her. Her surroundings were indistinct - and the light that she _could_ see coming from the ceiling was just a reddish haze that drew her attention to a couple blurry, squirming objects located across from her a few yards away. While her vision gradually swam into focus, the objects in front of her became more identifiable - the shape of a woman and a man, both sitting in chairs. The two people fidgeted where they sat, making stifled sounds of distress.

Wait... that shirt the woman was wearing - it looked a little _too_ familiar... and she was pretty sure that she’d recognize the light and dark green sweatshirt on the man anywhere...

Sarah’s eyes widened as she finally recognized her companions.

_“Hudson! Sharky!”_ she wanted to cry out - but her voice came out as a small whimper instead, her panicked throat suddenly failing her. She was both relieved to see her colleague and her friend still alive, and horrified to see them tied up as well - and in the state they were currently in, at that.

Hudson’s face exhibited the same dark tear-streaked makeup smears she’d had back in John’s previous television broadcast, and Sharky-

_‘...Oh God, Sharky...’_

Sarah wondered if he’d tried to fight back against the cultists earlier, because he now displayed a purplish, angry-looking black eye that he hadn’t had after their car crash... along with a few small, fresh-looking cuts and bruises upon his face and neck. His eyes met hers and he attempted to call out to her - except for the fact that his and Hudson’s mouths both had a strip of duct tape fastened over them. All he could do was let out an anxious grunt, while Hudson keened and squirmed in her seat again.

They both stilled as a metallic clang from a door slamming came from behind Sarah. Footsteps immediately followed and she froze as the new person in the room began whistling a light, airy tune. A hand came into her visual field and placed a bowl on a small metal table beside her chair - then John Seed himself strolled by. He walked in between her and the other two to a workbench on the other side of the room, toolbox in hand.

John Seed’s bunker. Of course, _that’s_ where the cultists had taken her and Sharky - where they _all_ were right now. The realization hit her like a bucket of ice water.

Her eyes darted back and forth from John’s back to Hudson and Sharky. Hudson was still struggling against her restraints and shaking her head with muffled cries. A disturbed shiver ran down Sarah’s spine at John’s blatant apathy. He didn't seem the _slightest_ bit put off by Hudson’s obvious distress - he was just whistling as though he was setting up for a typical ‘day at the office’, instead of preparing to...

God... she had a suspicion of what might be coming for them next, but definitely didn’t want to find out if she was right or not.

John removed a tray from inside his toolbox and set it down on the workbench, casually sweeping some dust away with his hand.

_‘This bastard tried to drown me the_ _last_ _time I met him. God knows what he’s been doing to_ _Hudson_ _this whole time,’_ she worried. _‘Or what he's done to Sharky since we got here.’_

John stilled at the workbench, and Sarah felt paralyzed as she held her breath, heart pumping a hundred times a minute anticipating whatever he had in store for them next.

He turned and met her gaze, a smile appearing on his face - one that didn’t meet his eyes, which were like stone.

“My... parents... were the first ones to teach me about the ‘Power of Yes’,” he began. “One night, they took me into the kitchen-” Out of his toolbox, he pulled out a small strip of... what was that? Leather? With his other hand, he removed a staple gun.

Oh God... not leather. _Skin_ . He was holding someone’s _fucking portion of skin._ She suddenly noticed the other skin fragment that’d been previously secured to the back of the workbench, a word carved into the flesh. No, not just a word - a _sin_.

...That’s what he was preparing for. He was going to force her, Hudson, and Sharky to confess all of their sins, etch their worst one into their skin, and carve the brand off of their bodies. _Jesus fucking Christ_ _._ Sarah’s stomach lurched and she fought to stifle her gag reflex. Moisture started collecting at the corners of her eyes.

“-and they threw me on the ground-” He secured the skin strip to the back of the workbench with the staple gun, then turned back to face her - expression calm, like he was simply chatting about the weather. “-And I experienced pain, after pain, after pain, after pain-” He unexpectedly slammed the staple gun onto the bench, causing the other three to flinch at the loud noise.

“And when I didn’t think I could take anymore... I _did_ .” Reaching into the toolbox tray he’d set aside earlier, he pulled out a small, odd-shaped metal instrument that Sarah didn’t recognize. He faced her again and walked over to the table beside her. “Something broke free inside. I wasn’t scared, I was... _clear_.” He extended his unoccupied hand to a desk lamp on the table and clicked it on, causing her to wince as her eyes adjusted to the light. He then began securing a nearby cord into the back of the device in his hand.

“I looked up at them and I started to laugh. All I could say was... _Yes_.” He clicked something on the side of the device and it came to life with a small, mechanical buzzing noise. Blood drained from Sarah’s face as she understood the small machine’s purpose at once.

_‘It’s a damn tattoo gun...’_

He turned the tattoo gun back off again with another _click_.

“I spent my entire life looking for more things to say ‘yes’ to-” Without warning, his hands flew out and grabbed both sides of the top of Sarah’s shirt. He yanked it apart hard, the first few buttons popping off of the fabric entirely.

Her eyes widened and she froze, too shocked to protest or know exactly how to react.

Staring down at the top of her chest, his eyes raised marginally from the bare expanse of her skin to focus intently on one particular spot on her sternum. At first she thought maybe he was just planning out where he was going to tattoo her (or... staring at the top of her cleavage), and she was momentarily confused when his expression flickered for an instant, almost missed the tiny muscle twitch in his cheek.

She peeked down at her chest on impulse, and his hesitation instantly became clear to her: the silver necklace she always wore - normally hidden underneath her clothing - was now visible, unconcealed by her torn shirt. The pendant that hung from the thin chain was now exposed - a small silver cross, modest in design except for a tiny diamond in the center of it. It was now staring John Seed in the face.

He met her eyes, his gaze cutting into hers. She wasn’t sure how long he stared at her - whether it was only a fraction of a second, or half a minute - before he finally turned his head away. He reached to the bowl he’d placed on the metal table earlier and lifted a small sponge from it, squeezing the excess water out before bringing it to her chest and gently cleansing her skin.

She flinched at the contact, gritting her teeth when cold water droplets ran down her flesh to absorb into the rest of her shirt and the top of her bra. Despite her discomfort, she _refused_ to give John the satisfaction of crying out. ...As much as she _could_ , anyway. 

“I opened every hole in my body,” he eventually continued, as if nothing had interrupted him in the first place. “And when those were filled, I created more. But... it was _Joseph_ who showed me just how selfish I was being. Always receiving. Always... _taking_.” At the mention of his older brother, John’s brow furrowed, looking a bit lost in thought - like he was remembering some distant memory. He looked up at Sarah again.

“The _best_ gift isn’t the one you get, it’s the one you _give_ \- and giving takes courage.”

He finished dabbing at her chest and returned the sponge to the bowl. He drew back to stand between her and his other two captives, who’d been watching him with apprehension. He began gesturing with his hands as he continued speaking, pacing in between them and Sarah.

“The courage... to own your sin. To etch it onto your flesh and carry its burden, and when you have endured - when you have _truly_ begun to atone - to cut it out like a cancer and display it for all to see...” he paused to chuckle a little, as if in awe of his own words. “...My god, that’s courage.”

Taking a deep breath, he turned and grabbed another tool from the toolbox tray on the bench - a long, metal wand. Sarah didn’t recognize this one, either - and certainly wasn’t eager to find out what it did. He resumed his pacing and began to raise his voice now, every spoken thought getting a little more frenzied.

“I’m going to teach you courage. Teach you how to say ‘ _yes_ ’, so you can confront your weaknesses, confront your sins-” His voice now rose to a yell. “You will _swim_ across an _ocean of pain_ and emerge... _free!_ ”

Stalking towards Sarah with the tool brandished at her dangerously, his voice softened once again. “For only _then_ -” The tool’s rounded metal tip met the top of her chest and was dragged down deliberately. The rough surface scraped painfully against her skin, causing her to wince. “-can you _truly_ begin to atone.”

There was a brief lull while he stared at her, his fierce blue eyes blazing into hers.

Heart thumping in her chest, she noticed her chair beginning to quiver - and it took her a moment to realize that the quivering was actually coming from _her_ , not the chair itself. She ground her teeth together and wanted nothing more than to close her eyes, to shut all of this horror out and realize she was only having a nightmare - that she was actually back in Fall’s End, safe and sound (...relatively).

_‘Learn to do good-’_ her brain instinctively spat out the passage from memory. _‘Seek justice, correct oppression; bring justice to the fatherless, plead the widow's cause...’_ She bit down on her tongue to keep from quoting the words aloud like she had by accident the _last_ time she’d been in John’s presence.

She was trying not to let him see how anxious she was... and suspected she was failing miserably.

He turned and went back to the workbench, leaning his back against it while looking at Sarah again. A menacing smirk drew the corners of his mouth upwards.

“So who wants to go _first?_ ” he asked insidiously. “...Hm?”

Her eyes darted from John to Hudson and Sharky, both of whom watched her with wide, fear-filled eyes. Hudson and Sharky - both of whom still had duct tape secured over their mouths.

“Which one?” John prodded, his eyes never straying from Sarah. “ _Hmm?_ ”

...Which meant that despite asking ‘all’ of them... he was _really_ only asking _one_ of them. Testing to see if ‘someone’ would volunteer to ‘confess’ ahead of the other two.

“This. Is. Lesson. Number. One,” he urged, voice rising as he began to lose patience. “ _Someone’s got to choose!_ ”

Hudson grimaced and wriggled hopelessly against her bonds, her shrieks muffled by the duct tape.

Sharky’s eyes fixated on Sarah. As if reading her thoughts, he shook his head from side to side. “ _Noo!_ ” A distressed, pleading moan spilled out from behind his covered mouth - and though his voice was smothered, the message was clear.

Sarah’s emotions began to shift as she eyed them. Her fear and anxiety were overtaken by bitter resentment and a fury that made her stomach churn and her blood boil.

_‘Seed... you son of a-’_

John snapped his gaze to Hudson, tightening his grip on the tool in his hand. He sprang up from the workbench and stalked in her direction, looking like a viper about to strike-

_“YES!!!”_

The word flew out of Sarah’s mouth before she’d fully realized it. Three pairs of eyes fixated on her and the other people in the room froze, as if someone had hit a pause button on her life.

“ _Yes_ , okay? _Yes!_ I’ll confess!” she cried out, her posture stiffening in her chair. “I’ll do whatever you want! Just... leave them alone!”

It was a long, silent moment until John blinked, her words dawning on him. As he turned his body back towards her a wide, shark-like grin spread on his face and his hands clenched into fists in front of him.

“Yes. _YES!_ ” he hissed through his teeth. He closed the distance between the two of them, raising the tool in his hand at her like a teacher with a classroom pointer. “You’re not going to regret this. I promise,” he assured her. “Now before we begin-”

He tossed his metal rod away somewhere behind Sarah and glided past her, out of her eyesight. She heard the creak of a metal door opening behind her... then John came back into view a few seconds later, followed by a male Peggie. John moved behind Hudson’s chair, while the Peggie positioned himself behind Sharky’s.

“-I think it’s only proper that Deputy Hudson and Mr. Boshaw go back to their rooms,” John continued. “Confessions are meant to be private, after all.” He started wheeling Hudson forward - the Peggie similarly pushing Sharky.

Hudson became frenzied as she writhed in her seat, almost hyperventilating in between her shrill, rasping cries.

Sharky shook his head furiously while alternating between shooting daggers at John and glancing at Sarah, worry knitted in his brows. He groaned something unintelligible at her - and though she couldn’t distinguish his words, she could at least gather that he was quite unhappy with the recent turn of events and her decision to volunteer.

“Hudson, Sharky...” she croaked, her throat suddenly tight at seeing how distraught they both were. “I’m sorry... I’m sorry for _all_ of this-”

John promptly paused when he reached her side, the Peggie following suit.

“Shh shh shh,” hushed John, and Sarah wasn’t sure if he was trying to ‘soothe’ Hudson or _her_ . “I am not here to take your life,” he crooned, looking from one woman to the other, “I’m here to _give_ it to you.”

He dropped his hands from Hudson's chair and leaned in towards Sarah. His hands snaked around her neck and squeezed, gradually restricting her airway.

“I’m going to open you and pour your worst fears inside,” he informed her. “And as you _choke_ -” his fingers gripped her flesh even tighter, almost completely cutting off her air. She gritted her teeth and tried not to give him the satisfaction of crying out, but her eyes started to tear up and she felt pressure in her face rise almost painfully, blood pounding through her veins.

“-Your sins will reveal themselves. Only then will you truly understand the Power of Yes,” he finished, finally releasing her throat. She couldn't stop herself from drawing in a ragged, desperate gulp of air and coughing a couple times.

With one last peek down at her bared upper chest and a small upward twitch at the corner of his mouth, he stepped away from Sarah and moved behind Hudson's chair again.

“Be right back,” he smirked. Nodding to the Peggie, he shoved Hudson forward past Sarah, Hudson screaming in protest all the while. The Peggie followed behind him with Sharky, who cast one last frightened glance at Sarah before being forced out of sight, an anguished yell trailing behind him like the wail of a wounded animal.

“Hudson! SHARKY!” Sarah cried out, to no avail. With a loud bang of the metal door behind her, she was now alone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few story notes (I will do my best to keep these brief, I swear, lol):
> 
> 1) It wasn’t until after I’d posted the last chapter and had already started on this one that I realized I’d made a mistake: Joseph’s ‘bible’ is referred as ‘the Word of Joseph’ in FC5, not ‘Book’. Whoopsie. I was going to change this in both chapters and make it so going forward, but... I kind of figured it wasn’t a huge enough deal. Different parts of the ‘standard’ bible are sometimes referred to as ‘books’ (or gospels, or ‘words’, etc), so I figured it was just a case of ‘semantics’ and thought no one would mind that much (and if you do, my apologies).
> 
> 2) ‘The Book of Joseph’, for those of you who don’t already know, is an actual, physical book - a pre-order bonus item that was available to the first 2000 people who ordered the ‘Mondo Edition’ of FC5. It serves as a short autobiography of Joseph Seed and the ‘official history’ of the Project at Eden's Gate. Now, I’m sure that the exact words in this book are not the exact words that are meant/thought to be in the ‘Word of Joseph’ in the game - the white books that you’ll find scattered throughout Hope County (I know John himself has used one at least a couple times in the cutscenes).
> 
> HOWEVER: though we never get to read what’s actually in ‘the Word of Joseph’ in the game (I assume - I haven’t completed playing FC5 yet, lol), it’s my own personal headcanon that Joseph would mention at least a little bit about the Seed brothers’ pasts, and how the Project at Eden’s Gate came to be (along with his usual preachings, of course). Maybe not their complete pasts (like 100% of what John tells you during the ‘Confession’ scene)... but I feel like he would at least partially go into it.
> 
> So - ‘The Book of Joseph’ in my ‘fic canon’ at least mentions the abuse/suffering all 3 Seeds faced (and a little about Faith), though maybe not in great/deep detail. For anyone curious, here’s a link that will allow you to read the complete ‘Book of Joseph’, which was an awesome source of ‘Seed background’/information:  
> https://joseph-the-daddy-seed.tumblr.com/post/172916306544/seed-family-lore-masterlist
> 
> 3) “ ‘It's just a book. No harm ever came from reading a BOOK... right?’ ” = Haha, movie references. A thumbs up for you if you know which one.  ;-D
> 
> 4) “ “I don’t ask my followers for money,” one of the passages had read...” = Actual passage from the ‘real’ ‘The Book of Joseph’, near the end.
> 
> 5) Sarah’s cross necklace → Here’s a couple references for what it would look like, for the curious:  
> \- http://a.co/d/fJRXSG3  
> \- http://a.co/d/1p6JSHg
> 
> 6) ‘Learn to do good; seek justice, correct oppression; bring justice to the fatherless, plead the widow's cause...’ - Yet another bible passage, from ‘Isaiah 1’


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sarah attempts an escape from John Seed's bunker (which goes as well as one might imagine), and begins to banter with John.

_Nodding to the Peggie, John shoved Hudson forward past Sarah, Hudson screaming in protest all the while. The Peggie followed behind him with Sharky, who cast one last frightened glance at Sarah before being forced out of sight, an anguished yell trailing behind him like the wail of a wounded animal._

_“Hudson! SHARKY!” Sarah cried out, to no avail. With a loud bang of the metal door behind her, she was now alone._

* * *

Sarah’s mind raced a million miles an hour, a cacophony of thoughts shouting for dominance inside her head. _‘Okay, calm down! Try to concentrate,’_ she commanded herself, her lungs puffing as she fought the urge to hyperventilate. _‘You’re in John Seed’s bunker. Alone in the room. Tied up. You can wait for John to return and God knows what’ll happen then - or you can at least_ _try_ _to do something about it. Sharky and Hudson are depending on you!’_

The thought of her partner and her best friend in danger provoked her resolve to come roaring back with a vengeance.

_‘Have to get free... THINK - is there anything around that might help you break loose?’_

She checked her surroundings in haste, aggravating her headache with the rapid movement. There was nothing nearby she could reach with her wrists and ankles bound tightly to her chair. Nothing visibly sharp that she might rub against to cut the rope binding her. She slouched with a frustrated huff, then froze when she realized her action had made the chair move slightly.

That’s right... her chair was on _wheels_.

Well... that could be something. Maybe if she could inch herself forward...

She lurched back and forth hard in her seat and grunted, trying to ignore her sore body’s protests. Her efforts were rewarded when the chair rolled forward an inch or two, bringing a slight smile to her face. It would take some doing, but... this just might work.

Little by little she urged the chair forward, gradually making her way past the metal tray that’d been next to her and the workbench John had set his toolbox upon. She tried not to acknowledge the two strips of tattooed skin stapled to the back of the workbench, but couldn’t help sneaking a peek as she slowly wobbled past. One was branded with the word ‘GREED’, but the other was too marred - the flesh looking burnt and damaged - to make out its sin clearly (based on the letters she _could_ see, she suspected it was ‘GLUTTONY’).

She shuddered, revulsion snaking its way through her, and headed for the open doorway ahead - the only exit besides the closed (almost certainly locked) door behind her that John and his Peggie had wheeled Hudson and Sharky out of earlier.

A small, winded laugh of triumph escaped from her lips as she finally made it through to the next area - only for her smile to vanish while she stared at the descending staircase in front of her. She groaned and might have facepalmed if her hands hadn’t been still tied to the chair.

“ _Shit_ ,” she hissed aloud, “-the _fuck_ do I do _now??”_

Exhaling loudly, she closed her eyes and rested her head against the back of the seat, contemplating her next move. Her muscles appreciated the small break, temporarily recovering from the additional strain she’d just forced upon them. Her eyes opened her eyes again as she chewed on her bottom lip and weighed her options.

Stay put and wait for John to return - and he’d see that she tried to escape (and got pretty much nowhere). Scoot the chair back to its _original_ position... and wait for John to return.

Hmm... some decision.

... _Or_...

Her eyes drifted down the steps and she briefly pondered what might be lurking beyond them. She could take her chances: be brave, let herself topple down the flight of stairs and hope the chair would break apart as a result, thus freeing herself from the ropes trapping her. _Or_ \- she’d get even more injured than she _already_ was, and the chair might _not_ break... and then she’d be hurt, _still_ tied up, _and_ stuck in place until she was discovered.

...What choice did she have, really? If there was even the _slightest_ possibility that she could get loose, escape the bunker to get help, then rescue Hudson, Sharky, and any _other_ innocent civilians that John may have squirreled away in here... didn’t she have a moral obligation to at least _try?_

She took a couple deep, steadying breaths to prepare herself for the plunge she was about to take. This was definitely going to hurt - there was no way it wouldn’t. A fall down a flight of stairs would hurt _anyone_ , let alone someone tied to a chair... she’d just have to try and minimize any (further) damage to herself as best she could while she was tumbling.

...Suddenly the stairs looked a lot more steep and daunting than they had a minute ago.

“ _I can do all things through him who strengthens me,_ ” she whispered, the bible passage not providing the reassurance she'd hoped it would. With a hard swallow and one last shaky exhale, she closed her eyes and winced in anticipation while jerking forward enough to tip the chair over the top step.

The next few seconds seemed to last a lifetime. It was difficult to determine which was worse: the thunderous sound of her body thudding down the metal steps, or the way it felt (physically _and_ emotionally) while her figure twisted and rolled head over feet - the world circling in a mad spin around her as her center of gravity was thrown into complete chaos. She finally hit the floor at the bottom of the stairwell hard, landing on her side in a miserable clump on the cement. It took several moments for her brain to catch up to the havoc that had just happened.

If Sarah’s head had been sore before, it was pulsing with agony now. She was pretty sure she’d whacked it at least once on her way down. The hard cement floor felt cool against her right cheek, which pressed into the floor more with each haggard breath she struggled to catch. Dazed, she squinted her eyes open, small flashes of light floating around in her blurred vision. It kind of reminded her of being on Bliss - only instead of a bland peace, she just felt pain and a high-pitched ringing in her ears.

Inhaling deeply, she attempted to pull her hands up towards her face - but when she was restricted from doing so, she instantly stiffened. Opening her eyes wider, she looked down towards her middle and let out a small gasp.

The ropes - they were still tied tightly. Her wrists and ankles remained firmly in place. The fall hadn’t broken the chair after all - not even a little bit. She had thrown herself down a freaking flight of stairs for absolutely _nothing_ . And now she was injured _and_ trapped.

“No...” Sarah murmured, horror setting in. “No!” Her frustration reached an all-time high. She had failed - again. There would be no escaping now, now way out of this situation. Her one available opportunity for escape - and she had screwed it up. She’d failed Hudson and Sharky. Joseph’s icy, haunting voice drifted through her head.

_‘No one is coming to save you...’_

She gnashed her teeth together, seeing red. Fingernails dug into the arms of the chair, gripping the hard plastic as if her very existence depended on it. Though her muscles ached at the trials the day’s events had subjected them to, Sarah didn’t notice - too consumed by her own rage and fury to even think straight anymore.

“ _GOD DAMN IT!_ ” she shrieked, not caring if anyone heard her. “... _FUCK!!!_ ”

Defeated, she let her head clunk down against the cement - beyond caring that it worsened her pounding headache. Her eyes squeezed shut, trying to fight tears that stung and threatened to escape. She was so distressed she didn’t even notice the gentle thudding of footsteps approaching the top of the stairwell.

“My my my...” a smug male voice drawled from above her. “My dear Deputy... what _have_ you gotten yourself into?”

Even with her eyes closed, she could practically see John Seed shaking his head with a sly grin as he _tsk’_ ed a few times. Her jaw clenched again, teeth bared in a venomous snarl as she opened her eyes and stared daggers up at him. If looks could kill, she was sure he would’ve vaporized at once into a smouldering pile of ashes.

He crossed his arms over his vested chest and sighed dramatically, then nodded at something to his right. Sarah could only turn her neck an extra fraction of an inch before the muscles protested any further movement, but the Peggie that had assisted John earlier came into view and descended the stairs, reaching out for her with a scowl on his face. It was all she could do not to snap at his hands - but she knew her effort would’ve been pointless and rewarded with violence, and her head was hurting her enough as it was.

The Peggie pulled her chair upright abruptly, making the room spin and her stomach lurch with the sudden movement.

“I suppose you thought you were being clever,” John continued, heading down the stairs as well. “Or maybe ‘heroic’. I can assure you, though - had you _succeeded_ in your escape attempt, I would not have been as forgiving towards Deputy Hudson or Mr. Boshaw. They’ve been difficult enough already as it is.”

Sarah remembered Sharky’s black eye and stiffened, narrowing her eyes to slits at the youngest Seed brother.

“And you know...” he went on, voice like honeyed wine, “the more your little... ‘Resistance’ opposes the Project... the harder we’ll have to scrub their souls of sin.” He stepped off of the last stair and bent forward over her, his face hovering a few inches from hers. “As for you, Deputy... I have a feeling we’ll have to scrub _yours_ a little harder than usual.”

As she glowered into his blue irises, he reminded her of the Bliss flowers growing all over Hope County - attractive to look at (much as she loathed to admit it), but dangerous up close.

“ _Fuck you,_ ” she spat back with all the acid she could muster. “Fuck you, your family, and your damn Peggies. Fuck you _all_.”

John’s smile faded, his mouth forming a firm line. His eyes twitched ever-so-slightly, and she could’ve sworn she saw a feral look flash across them.

“Temper temper,” he replied, his voice now soft but tense - and she knew she had struck a nerve. “Such vulgarity from someone who seems to be... no complete stranger to scripture.” His eyes dipped to her silver cross necklace before making eye contact with her again, the corner of his lips quirking upwards. “It would seem I have quite a bit of work ahead of me. No time like the present, hmm?”

He stepped behind her and gripped the back of the chair while the Peggie bent to grab the bottom of it, hoisting it up with a grunt.

Sarah’s view shifted upwards to the ceiling as both men carried her horizontally back up the stairs. It made her feel somewhat like a pig on a spit, about to be roasted at a feast - a little coincidental, considering John was about to poke and prod at her brain (and God knows what else) until she confessed her biggest fears and worst sins.

The men returned her to the previous room and, after positioning her upright again, roughly dropped the chair where it’d been located before. Sarah landed hard and grunted, discomfort spreading around her body like a blanket.

With another nod to the Peggie, John stood in front of her while the Peggie exited the room through the metal door behind her. Once it sealed shut with a loud _clang_ , he gave her a predatory smile that was devoid of warmth.

“Now - since we’re going to be spending a lot more time together, it seems only fitting that I should know the _name_ of my guest,” he said, spreading his hands wide.

_Guest??_ Sarah resisted the urge to snort.

“You already _know_ my name.” She rolled her eyes. “Deputy Rook - it’s what you’ve been calling me all along, _remember?_ ”

“No no no-” he shook his head, smiling as though she’d said something childlike. “That won’t do. You know _my_ first name. Since we’re- well, _you’re_ going to be doing a lot of talking, it’s only right that I know _yours_.”

When Sarah merely stared at him and didn’t respond, his gaze became stony.

“I suppose if you refuse to contribute, I can always see if Mr. Boshaw will be a little more cooperative with me...” He started walking past her.

“Wait!” she spat out, pulse accelerating as the blood drained from her face. “You leave Sharky alone! Hudson too! They’ve been through enough!”

John paused by her side, still looking beyond her at the door.

“You can’t have it both ways, you know,” he said cooly. “Either _you_ talk to me, or I pay _them_ a visit. Their fates are really up to _you_ , Deputy.”

She sighed and closed her eyes. He had her backed into a corner and they _both_ knew it.

“...Sarah,” she replied quietly. “Sarah Rook.” She opened her eyes again when she heard a soft shuffling of movement.

John backed up a few paces and paused, then slowly turned his face to hers.

“ _Sarah_...” he breathed, drawing her name out like a smoker puffing tendrilled vapor from a cigarette. The way his eyes lit up as he spoke it sent a shiver down her spine. He moved directly in front of her, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards.

“Your name... it means ‘lady’, ‘princess’, ‘noblewoman’,” he said, steepling his fingers in front of him. “It also happens to be a biblical name. Did you know that?”

_‘Ohhh, big smart lawyer, flaunting his intellect,’_ she thought bitterly. _‘Fine. Two can play at this game. You wanna show off? I can show off too, smartass.’_

She rolled her eyes to the ceiling and pursed her lips in an exaggerated manner, as if she was thinking hard.

“Let’s see, Sarah in the bible... known as ‘the mother of nations’. Her name was actually ‘Sarai’, until God told her husband Abraham to call her ‘Sarah’ from then on - the only woman in the bible that God renamed, actually. God also said she’d bear him a son, despite her being barren. They kinda laughed at Him because they were also both extremely _old_ , but sure enough - a 90-year-old Sarah soon gave birth to Isaac. She died at age 127. Oh, and she was also Abraham’s half-sister too - kind of weird, but unfortunately not unheard of way back then. This all, of course, is the ‘abbreviated’ version of the story.”

She paused, tilting her head at him. “...Unless you want _more?_ ” she asked innocently, batting her eyelashes a few times for good measure.

John’s face was impassive for several seconds, and Sarah wasn’t sure if she’d caught him off guard, impressed him, or aggravated him. After another moment, he inhaled deeply through his nostrils.

“Yes... Sarah was considered by many to be ‘the mother of nations’. How very... interesting.”

He began pacing around her chair slowly as he spoke, his speech deliberate - as if every single word was of the utmost importance.

“She was a beautiful woman who initially lacked faith in God’s promises and abilities. She could be jealous and harsh when things didn’t work out how she wanted.”

As he entered her field of vision, she was given a pointed look out of the corner of his eye. She pursed her lips, her brow furrowing at the insinuation he seemed to be making.

“Her impatience resulted in poor decisions.” Another side glance.

Her fingernails gripped the arms of the chair tightly. Normally she was better at maintaining her poker face... but this man was getting under her skin. She was well aware that he was goading her, trying to provoke a reaction for his damn ‘interrogation’ - but it bothered her more that it was _working_.

“As her trust grew, however, she became a great woman of faith that God used to fulfill His plan.”

John stopped pacing when he was positioned in front of her again. Though the smile on his face appeared kind, Sarah knew better.

“Her story shows us that it doesn’t matter who we are, where we’re from, how old we are, or any other personal strengths or weaknesses - through our faith, God can bring about changes in us that can lead to incredible influence in our relationships with others for generations to come.”

He placed his hands over hers and leaned forward, bringing his face in close. His discerning stare made her want to shrink back, but she refused to give him the satisfaction.

“You need to not only have faith in God, but also in Joseph, in the Project... in _me_. I already began with your cleansing in the river-”

“You mean when you almost _drowned_ me??” she cut in, eyes narrowed.

John paused, lips pressing tightly together, before resuming as if she hadn't interrupted at all.

“Sin is... pervasive. It drives us to do unspeakable acts.”

He paused, his focus shifting as he raised his right index finger to the left side of her face. His fingertip didn’t press down hard, only lightly grazing her skin - but as he traced an area on her cheek, she hissed and couldn’t suppress the wince of pain that surfaced. She suddenly remembered how one of the Peggies had bashed her in the face with his gun earlier that day and wondered if she now sported a bruise from the impact.

“I know the feelings that drive _you_ , Sarah,” John murmured, meeting her eyes again. “I know them... intimately.” The way he spoke almost made her wonder what skeletons hid in John Seed's closet - _almost_ . “I will help cleanse your soul,” he continued. “It will be difficult and it will be painful, but... it _will_ be worth it.”

He drew back from her, standing upright again.

“At your cleansing, Joseph advised you that despite your actions, you still have a chance for salvation. I reiterate the same sentiment to you now. It’s no coincidence that you’re currently here in front of me - it was fate, God’s will. God has guided your soul here before me-”

“Your damn _Peggies_ ‘guided’ me here before you,” she spat.

John's eyes narrowed a little, and Sarah had an inkling that she was grating on his nerves. While she certainly didn't want to be on the wrong side of his temper, it gave her a small thrill to think that she was getting under _his_ skin as well.

“My people came for you, yes,” he replied, his tone sounding a bit testy. “They brought you to me, but it was all part of God’s divine plan. Don’t fight it - our souls _need_ to confess. By looking deep within ourselves, by exposing the darkness inside us, we free our souls from the burden of their sin. That is what I’m offering. I will save you, Sarah. I will help you lift that burden. I will help you confess.”

A slight smirk tugged at Sarah’s mouth.

“And so... ‘John appeared, baptizing in the wilderness and proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins’,” she recited. _‘...I can preach about God and sins too, dickweed,’_ she held back from adding. _‘How do_ _you_ _like it?’_

John’s eyebrows raised, so she continued on before he could talk again.

“Your brother... when we came to arrest him in the church, he was quoting from the Book of Revelation.” The corners of her mouth quirked upwards a bit more. “I’m sure you’re aware... that another name for that particular book of the bible is the ‘Revelation to _John’_? Or... the ‘Apocalypse of John’?”

It was a good few seconds before John chose to speak again, and Sarah had a hunch that he was picking his rebuttal very carefully.

“If you know _that_... then perhaps you’re _also_ aware that the author of the Book of Revelations names himself in the text as ‘John’, but his _precise_ identity remains a point of intellectual dispute,” he eventually replied, a muscle tightening in his neck.

Sarah shrugged, still smiling. “It _is_ a very common name, after all.”

John proceeded to stare at her intently for several _more_ seconds, and she felt like she was on the witness stand in a courtroom, waiting for ‘Lawyer John’ to cross-examine her. His hands went behind his back, one hand clasping the other.

“Seven deadly sins,” he said, and she didn’t miss the change in subject. “Lust... gluttony... greed... sloth... wrath... envy... and pride.” He took his time with each sin, naming them deliberately, then tilted his head at her. “I wonder, Sarah... which sin is _yours?_ ”

_‘Which one should you tattoo on me and then carve out, you mean?’_ she thought, eyes narrowing again.

“Many people know the seven deadly sins,” she retorted, “but few people can name - let alone even _know_ about - the 'seven virtues'.” She raised a finger on her bound hands one at a time as she listed them off. “C hastity, temperance, charity, diligence, patience, kindness, and humility.” She tilted her head also, in the same direction as him.

“...How many of _those_ have you tattooed on people, I wonder?”

He paused, then gave her a calculating smile.

“You don’t like talking about sin, do you Sarah?”

“Why should I? I mean, what’s to like?” She shrugged. “Nobody’s perfect... you just try to learn from your mistakes. We’re _all_ sinners, aren’t we?” She raised an eyebrow at him and gave him a hard stare. “...Even you?”

It was almost imperceptible, but John’s smile became a little tighter.

“...Even me.”

There was a small lull in the conversation, and her eyes lowered (glad to break eye contact for a moment) until they rested on the skin of his upper chest that peeked out from the opening at the top of his shirt.

“So... is that _your_ sin?” she asked softly, gesturing her head at the crude red scars she knew spelled out the word ‘SLOTH’. “Your ‘ _main one_ ’, I mean?”

John looked down automatically and hesitated before responding to her, looking a bit lost in thought.

“Did you know... that the word ‘sloth’ is a translation of the Latin term ‘ _acedia_ ’, and means ‘without care’?” He met her eyes again, but his expression was... a bit softer, not as harsh as it’d been earlier. “Everyone thinks sloth refers to boredom, laziness, ‘idle hands’ - and they’re _not_ wholly incorrect-” He raised an index finger in the air. “But ‘ _acedia_ ’ can _also_ refer to lack of feeling about the self or others: apathy, self-pity... self-centeredness.”

_‘You don’t say,’_ she wanted to fire back, but... something in his expression held her tongue. There was something behind his eyes... something deeper that she couldn’t quite identify.

He turned and walked back to the workbench, placing both hands on the table and leaning on it, his back to her. He took a deep breath and let it out, and she had a feeling he was reliving some memory in his mind. He was silent for a few seconds before he turned his head to her again, his face a blank canvas.

“As I mentioned earlier - there was a time in my life that I took more than I gave back. That though I may have professed otherwise, I didn’t much care for the concerns of others. I did my job because I _had_ to, that was it. Until Joseph taught me better, I looked out for _myself_... because it was what I was used to for most of my life.”

Sarah felt a heaviness settle over her, suddenly remembering what she’d read about John and his brothers earlier that morning. She’d been- well frankly, too pissed off at him to listen much to his speech when she first awoke here in his bunker... but thinking back to what he’d been talking about when Sharky and Hudson had been still in the room, combined with her knowledge of his past...

“...Because of your parents?” she asked softly. “Your real ones... _and_ your adoptive ones? Because of what they did to you?”

John stared at her for several moments. She started wondering if maybe she shouldn’t have mentioned it, when he suddenly stood back from the table and walked towards her. No - he walked _past_ her, actually. She heard some shuffling for a couple seconds before he came back into view, holding something in each hand. It took Sarah a moment to realize what they were, and her stomach clenched when it hit her.

In one hand was the pack she’d had with her that morning, and in the other... was the Book of Joseph she’d stowed inside it, in her haste to get it out of sight from Mary May. With everything that’d happened, she’d completely forgotten it was in there.

Her eyes lingered on the items in his hands for a few seconds before she reluctantly met his gaze again. He held the book up to her eye level.

“So...” he murmured, expression stony but eyes ablaze. “...You _have_ read it.”

She swallowed hard and tried to play it cool with a shrug.

“I _glanced_ at it a bit. ‘Know thy enemy’, as they say.”

One side of his mouth twitched upwards.

“And you just happened to be carrying it around with you in your bag as you traveled Holland Valley with Mr. Boshaw.”

She scowled and stared at the ground. “Don’t get all excited, Seed - I just hadn’t had time to _burn_ it yet.”

A small chuckle drew her eyes back up again.

“You are... quite an enigma, Sarah,” he purred, amusement showing on his face. “Sometimes so full of fire and defiance... but other times spouting bible verses, showing quite the comprehension of it - a reverent side peeking through layers of hostile armor. You shield yourself with your sarcasm, cloak yourself in it. I wonder... what exactly _is_ it that you’re protecting yourself from? Which version is the ‘ _true_ ’ you?” Sarah disliked how his smile grew wider.

“...Who is the ‘real’ Sarah Rook?”

A muscle tightened in her neck as she clenched her teeth together.

“Let me ask _you_ something, John,” she countered. “Why is it that you spout tirade after tirade, preaching about ‘cutting out your sins’ after having them tattooed or sliced into you - and yet you still wear _yours?_ And Joseph still wears _his?_ Some of your Peggies still carry theirs, as well. I can’t speak for Jacob or Faith, their skin is fairly well covered up. But I digress - I don’t see _your_ strips of skin stapled anywhere. Don’t you think that’s hypocritical? Pharisaical?” Her eyes narrowed to small slits.

“... _‘Pusillanimous’??_ ”

Sarah had never seen someone’s emotions turn on a dime quite _so_ quickly before. One moment John had been smiling at her smugly - the next he’d dropped the items he’d been holding and had her throat gripped tightly in his right hand, leaning his face in close to hers. There was a coldness to his eyes that was new and alarming - even for _him_.

“Do _not_ talk to me about my brothers, _or_ about courage,” he growled, his tone as caustic as battery acid. His hand clenched her neck a little harder, ignoring the feeble grunt Sarah made as she struggled for breath. “We learned to say ‘Yes’ a long time ago, and have _more_ than paid our penances. _Don’t-_ ”

He was interrupted when the door behind her creaked open, and he snapped his gaze upwards.

“Brother John-”

Whoever it was must have froze in place when they saw the ferocity etched onto John’s face, because there was a few seconds of silence that followed.

“... _Yes??_ ” John hissed threateningly.

“Er-” the man’s voice hesitated for another moment and sounded a bit shaken. “I’m... _so_ sorry to interrupt, but your presence is needed for an urgent matter.”

John stared over Sarah's shoulder for a beat, then turned his sharp glare to her. He released her throat with a jerk and stepped back, unmoved by her desperate coughs and gasps for air.

“When I return... I will ask you questions, and you _will_ answer them obediently,” he instructed. “ _Any_ insubordination will not only result in punishment for yourself - but also for your companions.” A cold smirk appeared on his face. “And... I'm not quite sure how much more Deputy Hudson can take.”

Without waiting for her response, he promptly strode past her and out the door with a loud slam.

_‘Fucker,’_ Sarah thought, her malice towards the man outweighing the pounding in her ears from being choked - _again_. She didn't think it was possible to hate anyone as much as she hated Jacob Seed - but John was providing some stiff competition.

_‘...Damn these fucking Seeds straight to Hell.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few story notes (I do my best to keep these brief, I swear, lol):
> 
> 1) “I can do all things through him who strengthens me.” - Philippians 4
> 
> 2) For anyone curious about ‘Bible Sarah’: Genesis 12:11, 15:3-4, 16:1-6, 17:15-16, 18:12-15, 21:9-11 (to name the ‘major mentions’).
> 
> 3) “John appeared, baptizing in the wilderness and proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.” - Mark 1
> 
> 4) So... ‘the Book (Gospel) of John’ - the actual bible section, I mean - is actually focused on Jesus Christ. Since (to be succinct) Jesus is not focused on/mentioned in the Project’s belief system in Far Cry 5, and since ‘the Revelation to John’/‘the Apocalypse of John’ doesn’t sound quite as catchy a title (lol), and since there’s a ‘Book of Joseph’/‘Word of Joseph’ in the game (see what I did there?), I thought my chosen title of this fanfic was a bit more ‘appropo’.
> 
> 5) Re: the ‘seven virtues’: ...Yes, this is a real thing. I did not make this up. .....I also had not heard of them myself until I did research on the seven deadly sins, LOL.  *XD
> 
> 6) ‘Pharisaical’ = Excessively/hypocritically pious. Big word, I know, lol.  
> ‘Pusillanimous’ = Lacking in courage and manly strength/resolution; contemptibly fearful. Characterized by weakness of mind and want of courage; feeble; COWARDLY. Yes, this is a very big word... normally I wouldn’t put a word in my fic that I’d never even heard of (lmao)... but I thought it was important to do so, as Sarah is quite the hidden intellectual (as we’re slowly discovering), and also sometimes thinks before she acts - in that she’s pretty pissed off at John, and wanted to lash out and hurt him like she feels he’s hurt others. As you saw - she indeed struck a nerve with him, LOL.  *;-D


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We see some glimpses of Sarah's recent past in Hope County, and John begins his interrogation.

_John stared over Sarah's shoulder for a beat, then turned his sharp glare to her. He released her throat with a jerk and stepped back, unmoved by her desperate coughs and gasps for air._

_“When I return... I will ask you questions, and you will answer them obediently,” he instructed. “Any insubordination will not only result in punishment for yourself - but also for your companions.” A cold smirk appeared on his face. “And... I'm not quite sure how much more Deputy Hudson can take.”_

_Without waiting for her response, he promptly strode past her and out the door with a loud slam._

_‘Fucker,’ Sarah thought, her malice towards the man outweighing the pounding in her ears from being choked - again. She didn't think it was possible to hate anyone as much as she hated Jacob Seed - but John was providing some stiff competition._

_‘...Damn these fucking Seeds straight to Hell.’_

* * *

_"Only yooouuu...”_

_Sarah grunted as the world slowly started coming back to her. Where was she? What had happened? She ached everywhere, felt so heavy... urgh, that fucking song was still haunting her senses. God... if she ever got her hands on Jacob Seed..._

_Voices spoke over the singing - soft and indistinct at first, but becoming clearer the more she came around._

_“What a mess... check those chairs...”_  
_“Jesus, the smell...”_  
_“...Been stewin’ in their own filth for days... get some windows open...”_  
_“Yes sir.”_  
_“Someone shut that music off.”_

_Wait... the music wasn’t just in her head? She tried to open her eyes, but the light from... wherever she was made them snap shut again. Ugh... too bright..._

_“Christ, it’s Sully. When did they get him?” _

_“Why are we even bothering with this? They’re all dead-”_

_“Check ‘em anyways.”_

_She fought to get past the throbbing inside her skull. To her relief, the music stopped - replaced by the sound of furniture moving and scrambling around nearby. Bit by bit, past events started coming back to her: being captured by Jacob’s hunters. Jacob holding her and other prisoners in outdoor cages without food or water for days. Him compelling her to not be ‘weak’ and to ‘cull the herd’. Taunting her with his damn music box, making her into his fucking homicidal tool._

_“Why am I always stuck on corpse duty...” a young-sounding voice next to her grumbled._

_Her center of gravity shifted as she was pulled upright off the ground, and it made her realize she was tied up in a chair. Cracking her eyes open again, just enough to squint at her surroundings, she saw a young man - a teenager, he looked like - checking her over. Her lips parted to speak, but unfortunately all that came out of her parched throat was a feeble croak._

_The teen’s eyes snapped to her face, eyes widening._

_“Holy shit!” He jumped back, accidentally letting go of her and sending her crashing to the ground again. She winced and let out a hoarse whimper._

_“Oh fuck!” he yelped again._

_“Live one!” another man in the room shouted. “Walker! Go get the truck!”_

_“Oh my God. I’m so sorry...” the youth mumbled, bending over to her again. Another older man, bearded with long, unruly brown hair, hurried to his side._

_“Gimme a hand, kid,” he grunted to the teen, helping to pull up her chair. They both did a double-take as they examined her face, jaws dropping when they recognized her._

_“Eli... is this-” the teen asked._  
_“Yep.” The man with the beard cut him off._  
_“What the fuck is the deputy doing here??” the teen asked incredulously._

_“Jacob took a shine to ‘er, same as us.” The older man, Eli, took out a knife and worked to free her from her bonds. “You’re gonna be okay, hero. Whitetail’s gotcha now.”_

* * *

_“What the fuck did you do? You fucking killed him! You fucking piece of shit! He trusted you! ... I trusted you!”_

_Tears ran down Wheaty’s cheeks as he wildly brandished a pistol in Sarah’s face, features pulled tightly in anguish. She felt like she couldn’t move, paralyzed with shock, confusion, horror._

_Eli lay flat on his back in the Wolf’s Den, his bow on the ground beside him and a bleeding bullet wound on the right side of his chest. A pistol in her hands. And she didn’t remember a goddamn thing. One minute Jacob Seed had been sneering down at her, music box in hand, and then- _

_“...Oh fuck,” Sarah whispered, tears burning at her eyes. Her gaze moved from Wheaty to Eli’s body on the ground. “No...”_

_Wheaty sobbed and aimed his pistol at her forehead, finger threatening to squeeze the trigger._

_Tammy rushed at him from somewhere - Sarah wasn’t sure where, she barely understood what was even happening right now-_

_“Wait! Wheaty- it was Jacob!” Tammy tried to wrestle the gun away from him - or at least stop him from shooting. “No! Listen to me! It was Jacob. We’ve seen this before - Ronnie, Parker... this is what he does... and we let him right in.”_

_Her voice sounded far away to Sarah, who slowly sank to her knees beside Eli. Her mind didn’t even register the gun falling from her grip. One of her hands reached out to touch him, but she immediately pulled it back again as if it’d been burned. Her teeth ground together and she fisted her hair in her hands with a sob, unable to process this nightmare. A sharp yank at her shirt drew her attention away as Tammy whirled her upwards to glare at her, eyes narrowed and burning with hatred._

_“You find that motherfucker,” Tammy hissed, her voice quivering. “You find him... and you kill him.”_

_A quiet groan immediately brought all their attentions back down to Eli, whose fingers began to twitch at his side._

_“He- he’s alive??” Wheaty breathed, eyes widening._

_“Oh my God...” Tammy rasped, color draining from her face._

_She and Wheaty squatted down by his side in a flash, but Sarah couldn’t find it in her to move. She quivered in place, overwhelmed and unsure if she felt worse about what Jacob had done to her, or what he had made her do to Eli..._

* * *

_Sarah panted for breath as she bent forward and rested her hands on her knees outside the Grand View Hotel, burnt out. Jacob had evaded the Whitetails’ grasp again - presumably to his Armory east of the McKinley Dam. The hotel had been just recently liberated - a small victory - but it still felt hollow to her. Tammy’s voice suddenly came over her radio._

_“Deputy, I... I don’t know if ‘thank you’ is the right thing to say. Jacob may have escaped for now, but... well... justice_ _will  be done for Eli, we’ll make sure of it. I’m sorry about what’s happened, truly. I know that Deputy Pratt of yours and a whole bunch of our Whitetails ain’t out of the woods yet...”_

* * *

_Sarah’s reluctant eyes caught Tammy’s from the back of the crowd at the Wolf’s Den. The Whitetails had all gathered to hear the latest news on Eli, and Sarah had snuck in when she was fairly certain that no one would particularly notice her._

_Apparently Eli was touch and go at the moment, balanced on a knife-edge between life and death. Sarah felt like a traitor even standing there with the others. She turned to go when she felt a gentle hand at her shoulder, halting her movement._

_“It wasn’t you. Eli knows that,” Tammy reassured her softly. “He thought if we could just hold on, wait it out... Eden’s Gate would just go away. But... they won’t... will they?” It was more of a rhetorical question that hung in the air, both women already knowing the answer._

_Sarah shook her head and turned her face away from Tammy, embarrassed by her own tears. She didn’t get to cry... didn’t deserve to cry. Not after everything that’d happened - Jacob’s influence or not. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever get over failing Eli when he’d trusted her the most... _

* * *

_“You are not a hero. You are a tool...”_

The words echoed over and over again in Sarah’s consciousness as she woke from her sleep in a cold sweat, attempting to banish the copper-haired man’s menacing voice from her mind.

_‘...Damn him...’_

Pushing one Seed out of her head, however, just allowed another one to enter in. She wasn't sure how long she'd been sitting here since John had been called away... a few hours, at least. She wasn't even sure what time it was - it was impossible to tell if it was day or nighttime in John’s bunker with no windows or natural light anywhere. The worst part of being here wasn't even that she was here against her will, or that she was tied up - it was the  _silence_ . No talking, no noise... no sounds of  _any_ kind could be heard in the vicinity.

Not that she _wanted_  to hear screaming, or people being tortured or anything - but at least it would have let her know that others were here, that she wasn't so... alone. She'd spent enough time as it was feeling isolated from other people, and now that she was starting to form relationships in Hope County, starting to have real friends for maybe the first time in her entire life... she didn't want to go back to feeling like an outcast again.

She cleared her throat, wincing a little at how dry it had become. No food, and no water... how long was John planning on keeping her like this? It wasn’t as if she hadn’t experienced starvation or dehydration before in the last few months, but still-

_‘Nope, nope - not gonna give_ _him_ _any of my spare thoughts right now,’_  she thought quickly. Hudson... Sharky... were  _they_ all right? Hungry? Thirsty? Beaten? ... _Alive?_

Letting out a sigh, she frowned as her exhale broke through the quiet before things became deathly still again. It reminded her of something she’d read once, about prisoners being kept in a complete lack of sound as a warped form of torment... ‘white torture’, she believed it was called. Not just a lack of sound - extreme sensory deprivation and isolation. Captives forced to wear goggles, gloves, earmuffs... it was intended to make one lose their personal identity through extended periods of solitude. In  _her_ case it had only been a few hours (or so she thought), but she wouldn’t put a technique like that past John Seed if it meant him getting exactly what he wanted from someone.

Noise. She had to make  _some_  kind of sound to distract herself, to occupy her mind. Normally her ‘go to’ would be to think of one of her many memorized bible passages, but... well... for the first time in a long time, scripture wasn’t something she wanted to think about right now.

Too quiet. Dark. Too silent.

Silence...

_‘Hello darkness my old friend...’_

Sarah unthinkingly hummed the opening line to ‘The Sound of Silence’. A small smirk tugged at the corner of her lips after a brief pause. The song seemed somewhat appropriate given the situation, and hearing the music aloud actually gave her a little bit of comfort. She continued with her humming, the lyrics surfacing in her mind as she went along.

_...I've come to talk with you again_  
_Because a vision softly creeping... left its seeds while I was sleeping  
And the vision that was planted in my brain... still remains within the sound of silence_

_In restless dreams I walked alone, narrow streets of cobblestone_  
_'Neath the halo of a street lamp, I turned my collar to the cold and damp  
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light that split the night... and touched the sound of silence_

Growing a little bolder (since no one seemed to be around anyway), Sarah’s lips parted and she softly sang the next lines aloud.

_And in the naked light I saw... ten thousand people, maybe more_  
_People talking without speaking, people hearing without listening  
People writing songs that voices never shared, and no one dared disturb the sound of silence_

_"Fools", said I, "You do not know... silence like a cancer grows_  
_Hear my words that I might teach you, take my arms that I might reach you"  
But my words like silent raindrops fell... and echoed in the wells of silence_

_And the people bowed and prayed to the neon God they made_  
_And the sign flashed out its warning in the words that it was forming  
And the sign said "The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls and tenement halls" and whispered in the sound..._

She hesitated, then sighed wistfully at the lack of noise that settled around her again.

_“...ooooof siiiileeeence,”_ she finished quietly. Her head drooped a bit and she tried to think of what else she could do to combat the solitude. She jumped as the door hinges behind her suddenly began to squeak, temporarily scrambling her thoughts.

_‘Great. He’s finally back. Now the ‘fun’ can begin,’_  she moped, slumping down in her seat. She did a double-take when the person that entered her field of vision was  _not_  John Seed, in fact, but a young brunette Peggie in his mid teens or so. Her mouth dropped open a little, not expecting that.

_‘He’s... just a kid... possibly even younger than Wheaty.’_

She’d heard that the Project had a few children and babies in it (though she hadn’t seen any yet herself), but hadn’t expected to come across any teenagers actively involved in Peggie operations.

The teen avoided looking at her, walking past while carrying a folding chair with one hand and a clear pitcher of water with the other, a glass tucked under his arm. He rested the chair against the workbench and set the pitcher and glass down upon it.

By the manner in which he was going out of his way to not acknowledge her, Sarah suspected he’d been given strict instructions about her. Still, she couldn’t help herself from trying to interact anyway.

“My friends - the two people that were in here with me earlier - are they all right?” she asked.

The boy pretended not to hear her, but she saw him flinch slightly at the sound of her voice. He picked up the chair again and opened it out, setting it down facing her a couple yards away. 

“Are they  _safe?_ ” she tried again.

His lips pressed together tightly as his eyes darted over her shoulder, then back down again. He started walking back towards the door.

She closed her eyes with a sigh and almost gave up, when suddenly hushed words were spoken to her.

“I’m... not supposed to talk to you.”

Her eyes jolted open to see that he’d halted by the side of her chair, still refusing to make eye contact - his gaze fixed on what she assumed was the doorway behind her. She did the only thing she really (physically) could - stretched her hand out and snatched the edge of his sleeve in her fingers. She felt his arm instantly stiffen.

“Please, I- I’m not gonna hurt you,” she pleaded. “I don't expect you to untie me, or betray the P- your people, or anything like that. I just... want to know that my friends are okay. ...That they're still  _alive._ ”

He tugged his arm out of her grip and took a couple steps back. She opened her mouth to speak again when he beat her to it.

“They’re alive. In their rooms. You don’t need to worry.”

Her eyebrows raised and she was at a loss for a moment.

“...Thank you,” she whispered, a small bit of relief washing over her. “I won’t tell anyone you spoke to me... I promise.”

He started to respond, then frowned. His head slowly turned towards her, and when his eyes finally met hers she was surprised to see that he appeared... conflicted.

“Things will be easier if you just obey,” he mumbled. “Accept your sins, confess, and atone. It will be better for you _and_  your friends that way.” His expression became almost... pitying. Sympathizing. “It will probably hurt, but... I’ve heard that you  _do_ feel better after confessing. Less burdened. Maybe... we’re not the enemies you think we are.”

The sound of footsteps made them both jump and the teen’s posture straightened rigidly. He snapped his gaze away and proceeded forward past her before she could reply. A voice murmured something a little ways behind her, the speech low and inaudible, before the door shut again with a  _clang_.

When there was silence once more, she started to believe herself alone again - until John Seed came into view, strolling over to the workbench.

“And here we are again,” he said with his back to her, his tone somewhat cheerful. He poured himself a glass of water from the pitcher and turned, making sure he caught her eye before taking a long sip. The water droplets that slowly trickled down the side of the pitcher made her want to squirm, her parched throat tightening uncomfortably.

_‘God... what a creep,’_  she thought, bristling at the smirk he wore while drinking, never breaking eye contact with her. She fought to keep her expression neutral, knowing he was just trying to provoke her thirst.  _‘Don’t let him see you sweat.’_

He swallowed one last time - followed by a satisfied “Ah!” - and wiped the excess moisture off of his upturned lips with a swipe of his fingers. Placing the glass back on the workbench, he strolled over to the chair in front of her. Tattooed hands came to rest upon the back of it, and he angled forward with the same smug smile he’d worn in his introductory broadcast for The Project. An eerie feeling settled over Sarah when he just stared at her for a moment, followed by a chill traveling down her spine.

Uh-oh. This couldn’t be good. Especially considering the foul mood she’d put him in when he’d left her - however long ago it’d been. Warning bells sounded off in her head as she waited for the other shoe to drop.

After a few more seconds of ominous smiling, he finally broke his silence.

“Your... ‘Resistance’... doesn’t seem to be doing so well without you, Deputy.”  

Dread filling her, her thoughts went immediately to her allies. Nick, Jerome, Hurk, Jess, Grace, and the others - had something happened to them in her absence?

“If you could just appreciate what it is we're trying to do for you all,” he continued, “accept that we're trying to  _help_ you...” He sighed and shook his head, still smiling. “At any rate, I do hope that the Hope County Jail wasn’t  _too_ dependent on your arrival with Mr. Boshaw.” His smile grew a little wider. “I’ve heard that Faith’s followers have been giving them a bit of a problem.”

_‘How’d he know where Sharky and I were headed?’_ Had Sharky accidentally let something slip? Or...

Her eyes closed and a frustrated grunt slipped out as it hit her: _the radio_. The Resistance always tried to keep the channels as secure as they could, but nothing was 100 percent... and the Peggies  _had_ begun tailing her and Sharky fairly soon after they’d headed to the jail...

_‘Sheriff... please hang in there just a little while longer...’_

Her eyes opened again when a soft chuckle caught her attention.

“Things could be worse, you know,” John added. “Here, you just have to confess. In the east, well... let’s just say too much Bliss can... ‘go to one’s head’. Faith created her ‘angels’, but never  _did_  treat them all that well.”

Sarah narrowed her eyes, her jaw clenching a bit.

“And your oldest brother tortures people into being ‘the perfect soldier’,  _killing_ them if they don’t ‘fit the bill’, but you? Yeah, you’re a real saint,” she spat, shooting daggers at him.

John’s smile faded a bit. He stared at her for several seconds, and she almost missed his lips pressing together a little tighter.

“...Perhaps we started off on the wrong foot,” he said quietly, straightening his posture.

“Oh really? Did we?  _Do_ tell,” she retorted. “Do you think that might’ve happened when you bombed the truck Marshall Burke and I were trying to escape in, the night we attempted to arrest Joseph? Or maybe it was my near river-drowning during your ‘cleansing', because I still wasn't ‘clean' enough?” Heat began to rise in her cheeks as the memories surfaced in her mind.

“Perhaps it was when I was trying to rescue Merle and the other citizens you and your Peggies hadn't already _killed_ , but still  _abducted_ to force them to confess their sins - like you're doing to me  _right now?_ ”

Her words were flowing now - too fast and too out of control for her to stop even if she wanted to, regurgitating out of her.

“OR - maybe it's the fact that one of your Peggies bashed me in the face with a rifle, and since I've _arrived_ here you've already choked me  _twice_. Yes, I’d say that  _may_ have started us out into a 'rocky relationship’.”

John was momentarily quiet, his eyes narrowing as well. When he spoke again, his voice was low and deliberate.

“As I said before - sin is pervasive. You and your companions insist on opposing the Project time and time again, which forces us to act accordingly.” He raised an index finger, shaking it accusingly in her direction. “I think we both have an idea which sin plagues you the most. It drives you - every thought, every action. It fills your body and consumes your soul, radiates off of you in waves, becomes contagious to others-”

“So _that’s_  your rebuttal?” she snarled. “The idea that my sin is so great, it infects other people - that  _I’m_  to blame for the Peggies and yourself doing terrible things? That I’ve warped your sense of personal responsibility and if you people sin, it’s all on  _my_ head and you’re blameless??”

John inhaled slowly through his nostrils.

“This is going to be a  _much_ more unpleasant experience for you if you don't stop interrupting with your constant snark,” he warned her. He stepped back from the chair and lowered his arms to his sides, hands curling into fists. “I  _do_ want to help you atone, Sarah - but if you insist on fighting me at every turn, I'll have no choice but to visit Deputy Hudson or Mr. Boshaw instead, see if I can convince  _them_ to confess their sins.”

And there it was again - the ace up his sleeve, his bargaining chip. If he wanted her to ‘fall in line’ badly enough, they  _both_  knew all he had to do was threaten harm on her two other companions here and she’d give in, albeit begrudgingly.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, doing everything she could to reign her temper back in - for  _their_  sakes.

After all... pride was  _also_ one of the ‘seven deadly sins’, and with good reason.

_‘You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar...’_

“You’re a lawyer, John,” she eventually murmured. “You specialize in deals and agreements.” She opened her eyes again and fixed him with a hard stare. “We both want something. You want to know all about me - all of my sins, what makes me ‘tick’. I want you to let Sharky and Hudson go free, and for your family to stop ravaging the people of Hope County with your crusade.” She shrugged her shoulders. “We’re not going to get  _exactly_  what we want, but... perhaps we can work something out.”

John raised an eyebrow, appearing to weigh her words carefully. He slowly crossed his arms over his chest.

“I’m listening, Deputy.”

_‘You have his attention. Good. That’s... a start,’_  she thought.

“I’m not gonna waste my breath trying to convince you to release Hudson and Sharky,” she conceded. “I’m not that naive,  _or_ that stupid. However... if you can promise me you’ll leave them alone, if you  _swear_  to me that no one else will hurt them while they’re here - that they’ll remain safe  _and_ unharmed - then I’ll tell you whatever you want to know about me, the best that I can.”

John uttered a short humming sound. Though he appeared stoic, the corners of his eyes crinkled slightly - as if she’d said something amusing.

“How very noble of you, Deputy.”

Sarah began to scowl and fought to keep her features impassive as well.

“ _No greater love is there than this,_ ” she quoted, “ _to lay down one’s life-_ ”

“ _-For one’s friends,_ ” he finished for her. She couldn’t quite pinpoint it, but a subtle change came over his face, his expression becoming unreadable. He stared at her in silence for a couple moments, and it was all she could do not to look at the floor, the wall behind him - anywhere but his unwavering scrutiny.

Finally, he slowly walked around his chair to stand in front of her and leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees. His face lowered to her level, held only a few inches away.

“You'll answer _all_  of my questions.” It was a statement of fact, not a request. “You'll confess everything I want to hear. You will hold  _nothing_  back from me, tell me no lies. You will bare your soul before me - and when you are through, if you are worthy... you  _will_ atone.”

Sarah drew in a wary breath, trying to ignore the feeling of the walls beginning to close in on her.

_‘God help me... here goes nothing.’_

“As long as you keep your end of the deal?” Her brow furrowed as she searched those blue eyes of his, feeling a bit like she actually  _was_ about to give away a piece of her very soul - but nodded all the same. “Done. You have my word.”

John nodded as well. “Then you have  _mine_ \- on my honor as a Seed.”

She raised an eyebrow at him skeptically. _‘Your honor as a Seed?? ...Insert 1,000th snarky comment here.’_

“All it takes is one little word,” he added, a corner of his mouth quirking upwards slightly.

Sarah didn't have to ask him which one he meant.

“...Yes,” she replied softly.

His pupils dilated a little at her response, causing an odd sensation to flutter momentarily in her stomach. He straightened his posture, standing upright once more.

“Then let's begin,” he responded with a smile, looking every bit like a wolf in sheep's clothing. He backed up a few paces, never taking his eyes off of her, then sat down in the chair behind him. His arms folded over his chest while one leg crossed over the other.

“First things first. What is your name?”

Sarah blinked a couple times, thrown off by the question. “...What, seriously? I thought we went over this already?”

“Your  _full_ name, Deputy. First, middle, last.” His smile turned into a smirk. “If I am to know you inside and out, I want to know  _all_  of you, everything that makes you who you are. That includes your very identity - and where better to start than something as simple as your name?” His eyes narrowed at her. “These are just the ‘warm up’ questions, Deputy... they’re only going to get more difficult as we progress.”

When Sarah simply stared at him - due to something akin to incredulity, more than an act of rebellion - his smirk faded.

“Remember, I did specify  _all_  questions must be answered, and you  _agreed_ ,” he warned, an icy chill to his voice.

She swallowed uncomfortably, not wanting to test the limits of his patience - especially when the safety of Hudson and Sharky were involved.

“...Sarah Elizabeth Rook.”

“And your parents are...?”

Her body stiffened and she hoped John didn’t notice.

“Elizabeth and David Rook.” When he raised an eyebrow mildly at her, she partially rolled her eyes. “Yes, my middle name is after my mother.”

If John had any further thoughts or questions about her name or her parents, he tabled them for now.

“And where are you from? Because it certainly isn’t from around _here_ now, is it?”

“...What makes you think I’m not from around _here?_ ”

A half-chuckle escaped from him. “Since you’ve read at least _some_ of the Word of Joseph, I’ll assume you’re aware that my brothers and I are originally from Georgia, not Montana.” His head tilted to the side. “I can’t claim to know _exactly_ what a ‘Montana dialect’ entails, and not everyone around here speaks quite as... ‘eloquently’ as Mr. Boshaw or the Drubmans.” His expression turned a bit... smug. “However... while it doesn’t reveal itself often, your slight accent is definitely not one from around _this_ area - that much I can say with certainty.”

_‘My God... does he ever not think like a lawyer??’_ Her irritation threatened to seep through her very pores.

“And so I will ask you once again, Sarah: _where_ are you from?”

She sighed and resisted the urge to close her eyes. If there was one thing she hated, it was talking about her past - and that included anything and everything that had been a part of her life before she arrived in Hope County. She knew she could’ve had things _much_ worse (especially compared to someone like John and his brothers), but...

_‘Remember, this is for Hudson and Sharky. They’re depending on you. Do it like removing a bandaid - just respond quickly and don’t think about the answers. Don't let him see you sweat. Maybe it’ll be less painful that way.’_

She suddenly remembered words from the Peggie that had been in the van with her and two other hostages, on the night of her ‘cleansing’ with John: _‘Confession without pain_ _isn’t_ _confession.’_

...Urgh. This was going to suck, and suck hard no matter _what_ she tried to do. ...Fine.

“New England,” she replied.

John’s eyes narrowed slowly at her.

“ _Sarah_.”

Okay. Vague answers weren’t going to fly. John was too scrutinizing, too inquisitorial to allow it. God...

“...Connecticut,” she elaborated begrudgingly. “Born in Stamford. Later moved to Greenwich. I lived most of my life out there. Attended the University of New Haven. Got my degree in Criminal Justice, with a minor in Legal Studies. I moved to Montana when a job opened up for a Deputy in Hope County.”

She tipped her head towards him and raised her eyebrows, hoping her answer would be satisfying enough for him.

John said nothing for a moment, seemingly digesting her information.

“Hmm,” he finally thrummed, an odd glint in his eyes. “From Connecticut - _Greenwich_ , no less - to Hope County, Montana.” His own eyebrows raised, while the corners of his mouth puckered and turned downwards to form an expression that read as bemused - a ‘sturgeon face’, she believed it was called. “Almost entirely across the country. That’s quite a distance to relocate, wouldn’t you agree? Especially for a position that’s rather... subservient.” He shrugged his shoulders and looked at her with curiosity.

“You and your brothers moved your congregation all the way from Georgia,” she pointed out. “That’s quite a distance too.”

“Ah, yes-” he uncrossed his arms to waggle a finger at her. “-But we did so to avoid false persecution and oppression by the sinners who didn’t understand us,” he countered.

_‘Yeah... I’m sure that’s what happened,’_ Sarah thought cynically.

“We did so to seek refuge,” he continued. “Which then begs the question: what were _you_ seeking refuge from?”

When Sarah didn’t respond right away, he uncrossed his legs and leaned forward in the chair.

“Family?” he asked pointedly.

“I don’t have any siblings - I’m an only child,” she replied, a little _too_ quickly.

John hesitated, then smiled, looking a bit predatory.

“I didn’t say _siblings_ , I said _family_.”

“Well I don’t _have_ any other family either,” she shot back cuttingly. “It’s just me.”

“What about your parents?”

“Dead. Both of them. They were both only children as well, so no _extended_ family.”

It was too much to hope for that John would leave it there, to not dig further. Sarah _knew_ that. Still, she mentally crossed her fingers and hoped he wouldn’t ask any follow-up ques-

“Recently?”

_‘God damn it.’_ She couldn’t help gritting her teeth.

“My mother died when I was young. My father...”

She knew giving him any kind of ‘fodder’ was dangerous and stupid, leaving herself vulnerable to manipulation later... but she was only human, and he was touching upon a sore subject for her - whether she wanted to admit it to herself or not. As much as she wanted to act unaffected by his questions, she was finding herself stumbling over her responses more and more as his interrogation continued.

“...My father died a couple years ago.”

She did her best to look nonchalant. There was another calculating pause from John.

“How did they die?”

“My mom had cancer. My dad-”

“What kind?” he cut in indifferently.

“Jesus, what are ya, writing a freakin’ book??” she snapped before her brain caught up with her. John raised an eyebrow and she closed her eyes with a huff, straining to compose herself once again. “Sorry,” she muttered, not actually meaning it one bit. “Being abducted and tied up has naturally made me a bit on edge.”

_‘...Not to mention I’m being questioned by an asshole.’_

“Brain cancer,” she added before he lost his temper, opening her eyes back up. “My dad had a heart attack.”

John paused, then spread his hands wide. “Is there no one else back east that misses you? Friends?” The corner of his mouth twitched. “Someone... ‘special’?”

“ _No_ ,” she replied icilly, and without hesitation. “There’s _nothing_ for me back there.”

_‘...Subtle, Sarah.’_ She groaned internally, knowing that if John was paying even _somewhat_ close attention (and judging by what she’d heard, almost _nothing_ escaped his notice), he’d have picked up on yet another sore subject for her. Damn it... this man was too good at pushing her buttons.

“It really doesn’t matter,” she went on, trying to brush off her defensiveness like nothing had happened. “I got the Deputy job, moved out here, and worked with the other Deputies until one early morning, we attempted to arrest Joseph with Marshall Burke. I didn’t walk away when I _should_ have, and everything went haywire from there. You _know_ the rest.” She tilted her head at him impatiently. “What more is there to say?”

One could have heard a pin drop in the room. Sarah hated the way John stared at her, just _knowing_ he was mentally peeling her protective layers away with ease like an onion. It made her want to scream with indignant rage until what was left of her voice gave out.

“...You think we’re _finished_ here, Deputy?” he asked, his voice lilting and amusement spreading throughout his features. He waggled a finger at her slowly, then steepled his fingers together as a shark-like grin widened on his face.

“Oh no, ‘my lady’... my dear ‘mother of nations’... _far_ from it - we have just _barely_ _begun_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Yes, some of the canon events in the game (Sarah’s recent past in Hope County) have been changed around a bit. As more time goes on, things will get steadily more ‘AU’. BE PREPARED! (Muahaha.)
> 
> - “No greater love is there than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” - (John 15:13)
> 
> \- I’m from New England myself, but not Connecticut. I’ve only visited there once or twice, and not the cities I used in this fic. Truthfully, I had to look up the state info I used for Sarah - so if anyone who has pretty good knowledge of CT spots any mistakes I make, please forgive me, lol (it may be part of her background, but it’s not planned to be a MAJOR part of the story, at any rate).


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sarah reveals a little more about her past/family history.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Augh, SO sorry to make you guys wait so long for an update (at least, it feels like forever to ME). I've decided to make these chapters a little shorter from now on, in the hopes that I'll be able to update this fic a little more frequently (as opposed to longer chapters that take me a lot longer to do). Thank you millions to those who have stuck with me so far, and I really hope you guys continue to enjoy my fic!  
> (...Oh, and I PROMSIE Sarah will NOT be confessing to John for the next 10 chapters, LOL... I just gotta get this back story/exposition stuff 'out of the way' first)

_“...You think we’re finished here, Deputy?” he asked, his voice lilting and amusement spreading throughout his features. He waggled a finger at her slowly, then steepled his fingers together as a shark-like grin widened on his face._

_“Oh no, ‘my lady’... my dear ‘mother of nations’... far from it - we have just barely begun.”_

* * *

 

“So many questions...” John said, drawing the words out as if he had all the time in the world. He pursed his lips a little, drumming his fingertips together. “Well... let’s go back to the beginning - a good a place as any to start, I suppose.” He uncrossed his legs and sat up straighter in his chair.

“You said your mother died when you were young,” he continued. “How old were you, exactly?”

Sarah felt eerily like a cornered mouse with a viper rearing to strike at it, no escape possible. Everything she’d put behind her was about to hit her smack dab in the face again, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.

_‘Things will be easier if you just obey,’_  the young peggie had advised her, right before John had come in.  _‘I’ve heard that you_ _do_ _feel better after...’_

_‘If you don't give him what he wants, Hudson and Sharky will pay for it,’_ she reminded herself. She heaved a sigh and rallied all the strength she could muster.

_‘Fortitude. Bravery. Courage. Your past will only hurt you if you let it.'_

“...I was seven,” she replied softly, memories of sitting by her bedridden mother brushing past her mind. Her stomach twisted a little at the thought of it.

“It must have been difficult for you to grow up without her,” John said, his tone indecipherable.

_‘No, it was a piece of cake - thanks for bringing it up,’_  she wanted to deflect, but held her tongue. Her gaze went down to the floor, not wanting to look at him right now.

“I got by,” she murmured.

“Still - with no other siblings or family members, you must have grown quite close to your father after that,” he continued. “Especially having lived most of your life in Greenwich. It’s not exactly a town for the lower-class... things couldn’t have been  _too_ hard for you.”

Bitterness formed in Sarah's mouth at his implication, and she felt her upper lip curling into a snarl.

“Having money doesn’t necessarily guarantee comfort _or_  happiness.” Her eyes raised again, giving him an icy scowl. “You of  _all_ people should know that, John.”

His posture stiffened and his expression turned to stone, and for a moment she thought the gesture would bring her a smug sense of satisfaction - but instead, it only made her feel hollow as she thought of the abuse he’d suffered at the hands of his parents - _all_ of them. Shame pressed into her chest like a lead weight.

_‘ ‘You hurt me, so I hurt you worse’? That’s what I’ve become?’_ she thought somberly.  _‘What am I doing? What kind of person does that make me? That’s not who I am...’_

Despite the horrible things that had happened to Hope County and its people... despite the things that had happened to  _her_... she didn’t want to be like that. Didn’t want to ‘win’ that way. Succeeding didn’t seem so important if one had to lose sight of who they were to do it.

She closed her eyes and sighed heavily, back teeth grinding.

“...I’m sorry,” she murmured after a few seconds. “That was uncalled for. Even if you _did_  abduct me - more than once - and tie me up.”

There was a long pause as she tried to gather her next thoughts. So engrossed was she, in fact, that her eyes snapped back open in surprise when John spoke next.

“For the record... I had  _no_  intention of actually drowning you in the river, you know.”

When she simply stared at him, dumbfounded, he raised an eyebrow slightly.

“You’ve accused me of that at least twice already. I assumed that would be your next ‘dig’. That was never my goal, however. I very much plan on keeping you alive during this whole process.” His shoulders shrugged a little. “I may have been a bit... ‘overzealous’ in my cleansing.”

“...‘Overzealous’?” she repeated, incredulous. “I couldn’t breathe. You could have  _killed_ me. And what about choking me -  _twice_ \- before??”

“You’d be surprised what you can live through,” he responded, his tone ominous. “And besides-” his voice became somewhat brighter once more, “-to be fair, you can’t expect to continuously hit ‘below the belt’ like you  _have_  been and not be swung at back.” His head tilted towards her deliberately.

‘To be fair’? ...Almost  _nothing_ that the Project did was ‘fair’.

Still... as much as she hated to admit it, whether she liked it or not - he did have a point. ...A _tiny_ one.  _Miniscule_. It did  _NOT_ excuse his actions, but...

She took a deep breath. _‘God... give me strength...’_

“...My father and I were  _never_  close,” she said softly, her eyes lowering to the floor in front of her again. “Even during our ‘better times’ when my mom was still alive... he  _was_ happier back then, but there was always a distance between us.” She shook her head a little. “My parents were fairly young when they got married - just in their early 20s. I think my mom had wanted kids more than he did. Maybe he would have warmed up to the idea later, but...”

She trailed off, assorted memories causing her concentration to aimlessly drift away like a twig caught in a river current.

_“We were pregnant with our first child. And we were just babies ourselves, really...”_ Joseph’s own words from a previous conversation came forth in her mind. The similarity hadn’t struck her back then... though in her defense, she  _had_  been fighting starvation - amongst other problems - at the time. _“And I was terrified. On becoming a father. Mostly about money. She wasn’t worried. She had faith that things were going to work out. She always had faith...”_

_‘Except... my father didn’t kill me as part of some ‘sacrifice’ or test,’_  she thought, a chill running down her spine. _‘He just acted like I didn’t exist most of the time...’_

“...He  _did_  worry about money though,” she continued aloud. “Even before my mom got sick, he thought about it a lot. He never seemed to think we had enough. He was a real whiz with numbers and finances, and spent a lot of his time at work trying to ‘better himself’. And my mom would always tell him not to be so concerned...” A quiet scoff slipped past her lips.

“...She always had faith. She was  _everything_  to my dad, my mom. I think their parents hadn’t approved of their relationship. I’m not sure why or what happened, they never talked about it much. My mom used to say that she had her husband, her daughter, her God, and her faith - and that was all she needed.”

A sad smile crossed Sarah’s face, which quickly faded as a heaviness settled over her heart.

“Even when she got sick, even when she knew she wasn’t going to get any better - her faith never wavered. She never gave the impression that she was unhappy or angry... she always appeared to be at peace with her circumstances. ‘God has his reasons,’ she’d say. ‘He has a purpose for everything and everyone - even if we don’t always understand what it is. Sometimes we’re not always  _meant_  to know.’ ” She shook her head and sighed.

“My dad worked even harder than normal, trying to afford her medication and treatments, but...” She drew a shaky breath, fighting the increasing tightness in her face.

“After she died...” she paused and chewed on her lower lip. “I think a large part of him died too. He was never the same after that... more like a shell of his former self. It was almost like... another person had taken over his life  _for_ him. He stopped going to church, lost his faith... he wasn’t a  _‘bad’_ man, per se - just not the man I knew anymore. Sometimes... I wonder if I ever really knew him at  _all_.” She shook her head again, consumed by her thoughts.

“When my mom died... his whole world collapsed.”

Her surroundings silent, Sarah had almost forgotten where she was and who she was with. As a result, she jumped when John finally spoke softly.

“He still had  _you._ ”

She glanced upwards at him, his face expressionless. It made her wonder exactly what was going on in his head. She let out a low, cynical chuckle.

“...I didn’t even feel like his daughter most days,” she mumbled, looking away from him. “Just ‘some kid’ he was financially responsible for... that he ‘allowed’ to live in his house.”

After a few seconds, she met John’s eyes again. Sympathy washed over her as she remembered about the vicious and cruel past of the man in front of her, and she felt a little shame at feeling sorry for herself for even a moment.

“On the other hand... I could’ve had things a lot worse,” she added softly. “My father may have ignored me a lot, but... at least he never raised a hand to me.”

_‘I may have been lonely and unhappy - but I was safe.’_

Her fingers dug into the arms of her chair as she tried not to picture three young boys withstanding blows from a drunken father, or being forced to work endless hours of child labor on a farm... or a frightened boy being savagely beaten and tortured by two people who were supposed to love and protect him. Her posture stiffened, a twinge of fire running through her veins at the idea of anyone hurting an innocent child.

“I'm sorry for everything that’s happened to you,” she said solemnly. “ _And_  to your brothers. I may dislike many of the things you guys have done - hell, I downright  _hate_ a  _lot_  of the things you guys have done... but still, no one -  _no one_ \- deserves that.”

John stared at her for several seconds. His lips parted, but no words came out at first. He looked away for a moment, then turned his face back towards her, his expression contemplative.

“It can be far lonelier to be with someone who avoids intimacy than to be alone,” he said softly. “If you’re alone, you may not be loved - but you’re not being hurt, either. With the wrong person, however, they can hurt you over and over and over again... like a wound that isn’t allowed to fully heal until it scars, and even _then_...”

He paused, then rose from his chair and took a few steps forward, palms facing out towards her.

“The Project at Eden’s Gate, and the Father... they can be your family now, Sarah. You don’t need to feel alone anymore. Things don’t have to be that way. We will accept you the way you are, care for you, always be there for you. You can be so much happier.”

_‘As long as I don’t question anyone and do what I’m told like a good little lamb?’_  she thought sadly. She remembered the look on John’s face when Joseph had spoken to him during her ‘cleansing’ at the river. John Seed, who normally appeared cocky, smug, dangerous, ‘bold and brave’ - and yet, the apprehension on his face that night had been as clear as day, even in her blissed-out state. There had been submission. Insecurity. Fear.

_‘Joseph may be your family John, but... how many times has he chastised you for your sins? Punished you for them? Threatened to leave you behind?’_

“Is that how _you_  are?” she asked him gently. “Are  _you_  happy, John? Are you satisfied? Fulfilled? Even surrounded by your brothers and Faith and all of your followers, the members of the Project... can you honestly tell me that your life is exactly where you want it to be? That you’re who you want to be? That you feel completely understood and accepted?” She pushed a little further - not necessarily trying to be belligerent, just feeling an odd mix of pity and empathy for the man she once thought she hated.

“...Are you really never... lonely?”

John didn't answer her right away - but he didn’t really need to. As much as he tried to conceal otherwise, the answer was unmistakable, right there in his eyes. His lips pressed together tightly.

With his intense stare riveted on her, Sarah started feeling more and more uneasy. She instantly decided to divert the conversation, lest she risk making him angry again.

“Can we please just... talk about something else for a little while?” she requested softly, breaking eye contact to glance down at the floor to her side. “Anything else.”

John was silent for a moment, then turned away and headed back to the workbench behind his chair. He poured himself another glass of water from the pitcher on the table and took a sip - but at least had the courtesy of not rubbing it in this time.

“You mentioned you were born in Stamford,” he said after a contemplative pause, back still turned away from her. “Why the move to Greenwich?”

“Like I said before, my dad worried about money a lot when my mom was still alive,” she replied, grateful for the shift in topic. “At the time, Stamford was what they could afford. After my mom passed, my dad didn’t really know what to do with himself. He’d been working so hard for so long... he just kind of kept on doing it. It’s what kept him going... maybe the _only_  thing.”

She paused and took a breath, trying to quash the resentment that burned inside of her at the thought.

_‘He still had_ _you_...’ John had said earlier.

_‘But it didn’t matter,’_  a voice inside her returned.  _‘It wasn’t enough. ..._ _I_ _wasn’t enough.’_

“He was known for being such a hard worker that it opened doors for him,” she pressed forward, working to keep her tone and expression neutral. “He got promotions here and there, money suddenly wasn’t a problem anymore, and soon a company in Greenwich wanted to hire him. It isn’t far from Stamford to Greenwich - only about a fifteen minute drive, depending - but money was plentiful enough by that point that he was able to buy a big house that we didn’t really need, and a few people he hired to cook and clean for us.”

John’s head turned towards her, though not far enough to meet her eyes. “Were you ever close to any of  _them?_ ”

Sarah paused, her heart growing heavier at the person who came to mind.

“There was  _one_  woman,” she murmured. “Ruth. ...Most of my dad’s hired help didn’t pay much attention to me - I’m pretty sure I have  _him_ to thank for that - but... she and I started developing a kind of friendship.”

When she didn’t immediately continue, John placed the drinking glass back down upon the workbench and turned to face her again. He slowly walked forward, lifted the back of his chair up and set it down closer to her, then sat down. He was only a couple feet away now, and Sarah had the feeling his questions were going to start getting a bit more... intense. He crossed both his arms and legs, a pensive look upon his face.

“And?” he asked - but his tone was surprisingly gentle, instead of prodding like she was expecting.

“And...” she sighed and closed her eyes, lips tightening as she briefly reminisced. “My father found out about it and promptly replaced her with a woman that barely acknowledged me, let alone talked to me. He said that I didn’t need any ‘distractions from my studies’.” Her eyes opened once more, not truly looking at what was in front of her. “...I never saw her again.”

Her gaze lowered as she recalled that fight with her father: storming into his study when she found out Ruth was gone, yelling at him while he simply stared at her with narrowed eyes - as if she were an annoying mosquito pestering him for blood, instead of a beloved daughter who’d lost her only friend at the time.

She let out a resentful scoff and shook her head.

“I was hurting, and he didn’t even seem to care,” she said. “I was so mad, I wanted to do something - _anything_  - to get back at him somehow. I was too chicken to do anything  _too_  rash, so...” the corner of her mouth quirked upwards a little. “...I went out and got my ears pierced. He hadn’t let me get them done when I was younger, but I was finally old enough to do it without needing permission. So... that’s how I got the  _first_  set of holes in my ears.” Another chuckle escaped her lips. “My stupid little act of rebellion.”

One of the corners of John’s mouth twitched upwards a little as well. “There is a Latin proverb that states, ‘revenge is a confession of pain’. Sometimes... the people we want to notice us the most are the same ones that tend to overlook us.”

She glanced up at him casually and did a double-take at his left ear, noticing something for the first time.

He raised an eyebrow when he caught onto her staring. “...What is it?”

“Y... _You_  have an earring, too.” She couldn’t help her amused smile. “...I can’t imagine the Duncans appreciated  _that_  too much.”

John’s other eyebrow raised, and he slowly smiled as well.

“No... they certainly wouldn’t have.” He shook his head a little. “I got it after they were both already gone, however.”

_‘Good riddance,’_  Sarah thought caustically. “Despicable assholes.”

She didn’t realize that she’d actually voiced her second thought aloud until she heard John expel a small puff of air in what sounded like a half-chuckle. A little heat rose to her face, embarrassed by her slip-up.

“I... suppose they might not have approved of all your tattoos, either,” she added.

“They didn’t approve of a _lot_  of things,” he replied, his smile fading a bit. “Leviticus 19:28 - ‘Ye shall not make any cuttings in your flesh for the dead, nor print any marks upon you’.”

She let out a small ‘ _hmph_ ’.

“The bible  _also_ says that non-virgins should be stoned to death, giving birth to a girl makes you ‘unclean’ for 66 days, disobeying God could cause him to make you eat your kids, cursing at your parents warrants death, your hand should be cut off if you sin, and many, many other pretty ridiculous things.”

She took a breath and rolled her eyes.

“Like anything and everything in life,  _balance_ is key. There’s so many different translations and interpretations of the bible - and while many of them are very, very similar, how can one  _truly_  know which one is ‘right’? How does one know which ‘rules’ we should actually follow, and which were... well... just stupid nonsense written by fools?”

She tilted her head at John, hoping he was  _really_  listening to her.

“John... your brother thinks God - or  _some_ omnipotent being - spoke to him, and showed him a vision of a horrible future. What if-” She chewed her bottom lip for a second, hoping she wouldn’t set him off in a rage.

“What if he’s... maybe not ‘wrong’, per se, but...  _mistaken?_  What if what he  _thinks_  his message was, isn’t actually what he was  _supposed_  to take from whatever it is he saw?”

John stared at her for a couple seconds, his mouth set in a firm line.

“...And what if Joseph is  _right?_ ” he asked quietly. “Did you ever stop to think about that?”

“If I’m being 100 percent honest... I can’t say the thought has  _never_  wandered into my head,” she admitted reluctantly. “But John-”

“Everyone thinks he’s crazy, but he’s _not_ ,” he interrupted her. He uncrossed his arms and gestured widely around them with one arm. “Look around you, Sarah. The world is on the brink. You can feel it in your  _bones_. Look at the headlines... look who’s in charge!” His eyes narrowed at her. “...You think you’re saving people... you, and your ‘Resistance’... but they are  _already_ safe. We have a plan... and it  _will_ go according to the will of the Father.”

He shook his head and stood up, glaring down at her.

“You don’t understand. You don’t believe... not _fully_ , not yet...” He pulled his chair back a few feet and bent towards her, bringing his face close to hers. “...But you  _will_ ,” he added softly, lifting an index finger and dragging it down her bruised cheek again.

Sarah fought the strong urge to wince at the pain his action brought, but knew her expression wasn’t unaffected by it.

“You have _much_  more confessing to do,” he said. “We access Atonement through repentance. When we repent, the Lord allows us to put the mistakes of the past behind us. When we can put our mistakes behind us... we can make way for a better, brighter future.”

He straightened up again, a dark smirk ghosting along his face.

“Take some time to reflect, gather your thoughts... because when I return, our journey will continue.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Not kidding about that bible stuff. Look it up - there are some truly ridiculous ‘rules’ in there that get ‘overlooked’ a lot, LOL.


End file.
